The Night Has Gone and Taken
by QueenOfTheDreamers87
Summary: Part III of the Songs of Bellamort Series - Sequel to Robbers' Retreat/One is One and All Alone. Lord Voldemort is threaded up more tightly with Bellatrix than he could have ever imagined. But even as he ascends to power and absorbs his freshly forged bond, he and Bellatrix endure one catastrophe after another. As the world crashes down around them, can they survive together?
1. Chapter 1

"What do you mean, she's _dead?_ "

Voldemort tried to stay calm as Healer Crabbe shook his ancient head sadly.

"My Lord, we tried every trick in our books to stop the bleeding. Nothing was working. She and the child faded quickly. The body is being examined as we speak to try and establish an initial cause for the hemorrhage."

"Come in, Bella," Voldemort snapped, for he could feel her outside his office. Her mind buzzed with anxiety, and as she burst into the office, she stared at Healer Crabbe and exclaimed,

"Malika Shacklebolt is dead?"

"She bled out," Voldemort said, attempting to keep his voice steady. "During labour, during the birth of the child. She bled out."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open, and he felt her wondering about the baby. He just shook his head, and she closed her eyes.

"Where's Rabastan, Master?" she asked, and he sighed heavily, giving Healer Crabbe a curious look.

"At St Mungo's, I presume?"

"I assume he's still there, My Lord," Healer Crabbe nodded. He looked a little afraid then, glancing between Bellatrix and Voldemort, and he said, "This was an accident of nature, I assure you. It is rare, and it is terribly unfortunate, but there was nothing more that could have been done to save either of them."

"Thank you for your work, Healer Crabbe. You may go." Voldemort sucked his teeth as the old healer rose from his chair, which Bellatrix immediately took. As soon as the office door shut, Bellatrix folded her hands on Voldemort's desk and whispered,

"I can't believe this. This can't be real."

"People die all the time, Bella," Voldemort reminded her.

 _Not us,_ she thought, and he drummed his fingers.

"Not us, no. But Malika Shacklebolt and her baby… they're gone. I'm sorry; I know the two of you were… well, if not friends, at least friendly."

In her mind, he could see the time that she'd shyly asked Malika to take boudoir photographs for her, the bright smile on Malika's face as the two witches giggled their way through the photo shoot. Bellatrix touched shaking fingers to her forehead and whispered,

"Adama."

"I beg your pardon?" Voldemort cleared his throat, and Bellatrix raised wet eyes.

"Adama Lestrange. She hadn't told Rabastan the name yet. She was going to tell him when the baby came. Adama, a daughter."

"Oh." Voldemort chewed on his bottom lip and felt a wave of grief. That belonged to Bellatrix, he knew, and he threw up his Occlumency shields, for it was uncomfortable.

She winced, sensing him shutting himself off to her, and she blinked.

"When will the funeral be?"

"I quite literally found out about the death thirty seconds before you walked in this room," Voldemort said. "I know nothing you don't."

Bellatrix hesitated and then finally said, "You ordered Rabastan to keep their wedding quiet."

"That was because the child was conceived out of wedlock," Voldemort said sharply, and Bellatrix countered,

"So were you."

His eyes went round then, and he felt rage spike through him. He leaned toward her a little and reminded her,

"I am still your master, and you will treat me with respect. I am not a bastard; I am Lord Voldemort."

"I'm sorry. I'm not thinking clearly, My Lord." Bellatrix seemed afraid, and when he let down his Occlumency shields, he felt unease, sadness, and terror swirling through her. She said very cautiously, "Please, will you attend the funeral?"

"Of course I will," Voldemort snapped. "Lestrange made it all official. This was the wife and child of a Death Eater. Yes, of course I'll be there."

"Will they bury them together, I wonder?" Bellatrix mused, and she stared out the window. "If I were her, I'd want them to bury the baby in my arms."

"Bella." Voldemort curled his lip up, repulsed and disturbed, and he shook his head. "There's nothing you can do. You need to think about something else; you mustn't let your mind wander to things like that."

He pulled out a sheet of parchment and a self-inking quill, and he wrote,

 _Rabastan,_

 _I was incredibly distressed to learn of the deaths of Malika and your unborn child. Their loss is keenly felt among all of us who consider ourselves your friends, and we grieve with you._

 _Take the time you require out of service to mourn your wife and child, and know that resources and fellowship are ready and waiting should you require them. The Dark Lady and I will, naturally, be in attendance for the funeral._

 _Malika told Bellatrix that the child was to be called Adama._

 _With great sorrow,_

 _Lord Voldemort_

He signed the letter with a flourish, rolled and sealed it, and went to the dark brown owl who was waiting patiently in the corner of the office on a perch. Voldemort tied the letter to the bird's foot and said firmly,

"Rabastan Lestrange at St Mungo's."

He opened the window, and the owl went soaring off. Voldemort watched the bird fly away, off beyond Malfoy Manor. From behind him, Bellatrix thought,

 _Who were the Healers delivering the baby?_

"The head Healer was Crabbe," Voldemort answered, turning round. "Why?"

"And the Mediwitches?" Bellatrix's voice was like flint in the air, and he could feel her growing distrust and scepticism from within her. Voldemort frowned and approached her.

"You think someone at that hospital cursed her to bleed out? Killed her and the child?"

"Not everyone is sympathetic to the wife of a Death Eater," Bellatrix pointed out. Voldemort gulped and sat back down quickly, pulling another sheet of parchment and picking up his quill. His hand shook just a little as he wrote,

 _Healer Crabbe,_

 _I require complete and comprehensive records of Malika Shacklebolt's admission, birthing process, and death. I need to know timing, medical details, and the names of all staff and patients who were in close proximity to Malika Shacklebolt._

 _I realise that, ordinarily, this would be considered confidential information. I'm sure you can plainly see why I require all of these details._

 _L.V._

He pressed the metal call button on his desk, and a moment later, the House-Elf Dobby appeared with a crack in the office.

"Master Lord, sir," the House-Elf said meekly. "How may Dobby serve you?"

"I need this delivered to Healer Crabbe at St Mungo's," Voldemort said as he sealed up the letter, "and it needs to be done carefully. Discreetly, you understand?"

"Yes, Master. Dobby will sneak into Healer Crabbe's office and wait for him, sir." Dobby bowed at Bellatrix as he approached the desk and took the scroll.

"Go. He should be back there by now," Voldemort nodded, and Dobby snapped his bony fingers, vanishing at once.

"You know, I really hope you're wrong," Voldemort said rather sharply to Bellatrix. "If my enemies are willing to take out a labouring woman and her baby just to spite me, then…"

"I think Dumbledore's followers would be shocked to learn how far he's willing to go," Bellatrix said, tipping her chin up a little. "Some of his players, like Mad-Eye Moody, are just as ruthless as our own. I wouldn't put this past them. I think an investigation is in order."

"Well, good, because there's going to be an investigation, apparently." Voldemort pinched his lips and pointed out, "You know nothing like that will ever, ever happen to you. You know that."

"I have no desire for motherhood, much less dying in the pursuit of motherhood," Bellatrix replied, and Voldemort raised his eyebrows.

"Good. I've certainly no desire for fatherhood, much less losing you in the pursuit of… well. In any case, nothing like that will ever happen to you."

"No, but it did happen to Malika," Bellatrix said somewhat morosely. She shut her eyes and suggested, "Let's get very, very drunk tonight, all right? So drunk we have to hold each other up. Drunk until we vomit."

"Maybe we can keep from vomiting," Voldemort said with a smirk, "but, yes. Endless gin for me and a whole bottle of elf-made wine for you. That sounds cathartic."

"It's a date, Master." Bellatrix stood and tapped her fingers on the back the chair. "I think I ought to go write some letters of my own. To Malika's family, to Narcissa… there are a lot of broken hearts today, I think."

"Well, go on, then," Voldemort nodded. "Go write some letters… My Lady."

* * *

"You know, every one of these gets less and less tonic," Voldemort said in a slur. He was sloppy as he sloshed some gin over the ice cubes in his glass. He dropped in a fresh wedge of lime and stirred, downing half the drink as he mumbled, "Started with half the gin I've got in this one."

He watched as Bellatrix swigged straight from the bottle of red wine. She was near the bottom of it now, and her mind was a whirl of confused emotion. Suddenly Voldemort stumbled over to the Potions stores in the corner, and Bellatrix asked softly,

"What are you doing?"

"You're still upset," he noted, and Bellatrix scoffed.

"Yes. Malika's dead. The baby's dead. It's a little… a little upsetting, you know."

"Yes. I know." Voldemort blinked through the blurry vision he'd inflicted on himself, and he reached in the Potions cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Draught of Peace. He opened it and drank half, and then he careened across the room with bumbling steps and held out the bottle. Bellatrix set her wine down on the low table and reluctantly took the Draught of Peace.

"Bella," Voldemort said quietly, "it doesn't do any good to be drunk if you're still… still devastated. All right? It's… I can feel that creeping blank ink in your brain."

"Black ink?" Bellatrix raised her bleary eyes and frowned. "What black ink?"

Voldemort shrugged a little and said, "That's what it feels like when you're sad. Like black ink spilled on a page, bleeding across the… the paper."

"Oh." Bellatrix stared at the bottle of Draught of Peace and dragged her thumb over it. "Your anger feels like a blade piercing pale flesh, like blood rushing out in scarlet rivers."

"Oh." Voldemort set down his drink and folded his arms. "Take the Draught of Peace, Bella. You won't bring… bring Malika back with that inky sadness."

Bellatrix knocked back the rest of the Draught of Peace, and after a moment, Voldemort began to hear music in his head, as if it were coming from underwater. It grew louder with each passing second, like they were walking toward it. Bellatrix shook her head where she sat on the divan, and she said,

"A waltz? A _folk_ waltz? Ha. No."

"It's not a Wizarding Wireless, Bellatrix; I can't change the station," Voldemort told her tersely. He relaxed a little then, thanks to the potion. He folded his arms across his chest and said, "You make the music easier, then."

Bellatrix just blinked, and the folksy three-beat music grew stronger. Finally she flew up in a huff, wobbled on her feet, and laughed quietly. The Draught of Peace was settling into both their veins now, Voldemort thought. He guided her to an empty spot in the sitting room and bowed as she dipped into a mess of a curtsy.

She held her skirt out with her left hand, and Voldemort wrapped his own left arm around her waist and held her close. They linked right hands over her head and began to step in a circle. Bellatrix stumbled in her intoxication, and Voldemort smiled as he whispered,

" _One-two-three. One-two-three._ "

"I can count. Master." Bellatrix choked out a little laugh then and stared up at him as he drew her into a standard waltz stance. She let her face fall back just a little as they moved. Their gazes locked like always, only it went so much deeper now. He could feel the music inside of her core, not just his own. One-two-three. One-two-three. Their hearts beat in unison, and Voldemort felt their pulses accelerate a little.

He held her left hand in his right one and their feet moved quickly in threes. They turned their bodies gently toward one another and then out again. The strings in Voldemort's mind were insistent, along with the clarinet and horn. He mumbled,

"Oh, a kick step feels ill-advised. I'm drunk."

"Me, too. Let's try to stay upright," Bellatrix suggested with a cheeky look, and she let Voldemort wrap her in his arms as they moved. Kick-together-step. Kick-together-step.

"You are so beautiful," Voldemort said as they moved into a standard waltz again. He blinked and met her eyes and thought, _You're the most beautiful woman on Earth._

 _You've not seen all the women on Earth,_ she thought back, and he shook his head.

"I don't need to see the others to know that you're prettier. I know it is so. I've seen plenty. Loads. You're so much more beautiful."

"Well, I appreciate your confidence, My Lord." Bellatrix stuttered in her steps and whispered, "Far too much wine."

"Spin, you drunken little wisp, you," Voldemort ordered, and Bellatrix laughed like a madwoman as he moved in a line, holding her hand over her head as she whirled and whirled. By the end, she was so dizzy - he knew; he could feel the dizziness - that she collapsed against his chest, breathless and laughing. The music started to fade away, and Bellatrix murmured against Voldemort's robes,

"Show me that time we danced. When I was a little girl."

"What, at that wedding?" Voldemort frowned, and Bellatrix stared up at him with curiosity in her blurry eyes.

"Was there another time?"

"Yes, there was. Later that year, at the Malfoy Christmas party. You… well, here. Look."

She didn't need Legilimency anymore. He just remembered it, and suddenly it was like they were both there.

' _Hullo, Lord Voldemort.'_

' _Miss Black. Good to see you again.' Voldemort raised his Champagne flute to her in a mock toast, and he said in a scolding sort of tone, 'I heard Mr Malfoy enchanted these glasses to keep little varmints like you away.'_

 _Bellatrix scowled. 'You could just give me that one.'_

' _No, I don't think I will.' Voldemort swigged down the Champagne and studied the troublesome little girl before him. Someone had styled her wild black curls into a braid down her back, which seemed unfortunate. Her face was thin and angry without the halo of her hair. She looked like a little goblin._

' _Fancy a dance, Lord Voldemort?' asked little Bellatrix, and he shrugged._

' _That depends. Have you grown taller since the last time, so that I can dance properly with you?'_

' _I've grown a little,' Bellatrix said defensively. Voldemort smiled to himself and set down his empty Champagne flute. He walked toward the dance floor with long, brisk steps, hearing Bellatrix's shoes clatter on the floor behind him as she called,_

' _Lord Voldemort! Wait for me!'_

 _He bowed to her, an exaggerated obeisance, and she curtsied very briefly. Then she stepped right on up onto Voldemort's shoes, and she reached up vertically to put her hand on his shoulder._

' _My, but you have grown,' Voldemort teased, letting his hand hover modestly over the material of her flouncy black dress. He took her tiny hand in his and held them out, and they swayed to the two-step that the orchestra was playing._

' _You're better at this than you were before,' Bellatrix said almost accusingly. 'Have you got a girlfriend that you've been dancing with for practise?'_

' _No.' He shook his head and cocked up an eyebrow. 'Have you got a secret boyfriend you've been practising with?'_

' _He's not secret. Someday Rodolphus and I are going to be married,' Bellatrix said, and Voldemort scoffed._

' _Is that so? Have the two of you already decided?'_

' _Mmm-hmm.' Bellatrix nodded firmly. 'You said I'd be a hellion of a wife for some wizard. What does that mean?'_

' _A… challenge,' Voldemort fibbed, softening the blow. 'You'll be a challenge, little Miss Black.'_

' _Oh, good. I like when people find me difficult,' Bellatrix said, tipping her little chin up, and then Voldemort really did laugh._

Bellatrix giggled against Voldemort's chest where they stood in the sitting room, and when she raised her eyes to him, she thought,

 _I was so awful!_

"I found it rather endearing, that venomous streak you had as a child," Voldemort informed her. He kissed her forehead and said, "It tempered as you grew. You became more careful with what you said, more guarded with your actions. You became less predictable as you grew up. You became more… dangerous."

"And am I a challenge, after all?" Bellatrix asked. Voldemort nodded.

"You are everything, Bella."

"Could use a shower," she mumbled. "Care to join me?"

He took her hand in his and led her up the stairs in the house where he'd killed his father, both of them drunk and peaceful, neither of them thinking about Malika Shacklebolt.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Woo hoo! Part III of this series has officially begun. If you're joining me from Part II, THANK YOU and please do let me know what you think of this story as things move along.**


	2. Chapter 2

Bellatrix lay awake, staring at the wall as the sun came up. She couldn't sleep, not with her mind painting a gruesome portrait of what it must have been like for poor Malika Shacklebolt to bleed to death in hospital. She had her Occlumency shields up so the Dark Lord could stay asleep. She didn't want to bother him with these thoughts, this troubling obsession, this perseveration.

Today was the day of the funeral, though, and Bellatrix couldn't stop thinking about the macabre details. Would they bury the baby with Malika, after all? Or would there be a separate, tiny coffin?

The medical report had come back saying that Malika's uterus hadn't been contracting properly during labour, which had triggered bleeding. The Healers had rushed to deliver the baby with surgical means, but it had been too late for both of them. It didn't seem as though anyone treating Malika had had ill intent. Voldemort had even had all the Healers and Mediwitches interrogated. By all accounts, it was as Healer Crabbe had said. This had been an accident of nature.

But as she stared out the window at the orange-purple glow of the dawning day, all Bellatrix could do was think of Malika screaming in pain, in fear. She could hear those screams going quiet as Malika faded from the world. Bellatrix could picture the way the baby must have come out unmoving and silent, its lips just a little bit violet in death. She could practically hear Rabastan Lestrange's shrieks of agonised grief, could see the way Malika's parents must have collapsed to their knees upon hearing of the loss of their daughter and grandchild.

"Bellatrix."

She rolled over quietly, letting down her Occlumency shields and feeling the process of her husband waking. Their breathing matched up, along with their hearts, and she whispered,

"I'm sorry, My Lord. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," he insisted. "I woke on my own, but I couldn't feel you, so I knew you were lying there shielding me out. That means you've been up for some time. You're troubled."

"Yes. I am." Bellatrix nodded and admitted, "I have never been so affected by a death before, Master. Ordinarily, death is nothing to me. If I am not causing it, I am witnessing it, and it never matters. Lives are snuffed out all the time, often by my own wand. But there is something in all of this that disturbs me, and I an unused to the sensation."

Voldemort looked tired in the light of the early morning, and he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he noted,

"There is only one death that has ever brought me any sort of real… sorrow. Even that's probably an exaggeration, but…"

"Who was it?" Bellatrix asked, and suddenly a memory played inside of Voldemort's mind. There was a woman, a plump woman with gaudy lipstick. _Hepzibah Smith_ , Bellatrix could feel. Young Tom Riddle had gone to her house many times for tea, for talks, to ogle her family artefacts. One, the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, he used for a Horcrux after killing Hepzibah. He framed the woman's House-Elf for the murder.

"You felt a little regret when she was dead," Bellatrix noted, and Voldemort said nothing. He blinked up at the ceiling, and Bellatrix felt his mind pulse with an idea.

 _She was the first human being to ever treat me like family, and I killed her for a cup._

"Do you still regret it?" Bellatrix asked plainly, and Voldemort shook his head.

 _Regret accomplishes nothing. Regret holds you back. I look forward._

"I don't feel guilt or regret about Malika," Bellatrix noted. "It's more like… like a helpless sort of feeling that she simply ought not be dead."

"A damnable shame," Voldemort said, nodding. "Sometimes, when people die, we feel glee. Sometimes shock. But very often, a death is simply…"

"A damnable shame," Bellatrix repeated. "Yes. That sums it up, I suppose. We ought to get up, I think. Have some breakfast? Coopy should have it ready soon."

Voldemort gave Bellatrix a rather weighty look then. He reached for her hair, tucked it behind her ear, and whispered,

"It's not even six. We've loads of time. All the time in the world."

"And you've ideas for that time, have you?" Bellatrix sat up slowly, and she could feel him thinking that she was awfully pretty in the morning. She scoffed and shook her head.

"Bleary eyes and messy hair," she said, "smelling of sleep with a rumpled nightgown on."

"Lovely eyes and perfectly wild hair," he corrected her, "smelling of dreams. Nightgowns are easily removed."

Bellatrix gave him a shy little smile and stared down at the sheets.

"Do you know… I had a sex dream about you when… before there was _us_ ," she said suddenly, and she could see then a scene in which Voldemort discovered that Bellatrix had cried out for him when she'd been with Rodolphus. Bellatrix shook her head and admitted, "No. It was before that. It was… I was… at school. I had no idea why, at the time, I dreamed of you. It seemed so silly. You weren't attainable in any way; you were the Dark Lord."

"What was this dream about?" Voldemort asked with a little smile, and Bellatrix showed him in her mind.

 _She was on her knees, her hands bound behind her with thick ropes he'd Conjured. His fingers were in her hair and his head was tipped back as she slid his cock down her throat. She gulped at his length, moaning onto him and raising her eyes up to her master._

Suddenly Voldemort was laughing uproariously, and Bellatrix knew why. She straddled him quickly in their bed and insisted,

"I had absolutely no way of knowing you had such a giant cock!"

"Giant, is it?" He looked very proud then, and she scratched gently at his chest, raking her fingernails from his shoulders to his belly button. He shivered and licked at his bottom lip, and Bellatrix murmured,

"How on Earth could I possibly have conceptualised the size of it? The way it would feel invading me? That stretch, that burning pressure of being so filled? How could I have imagined that?"

"Bella." Voldemort was hard beneath her now. She could feel that. Bellatrix smirked a little and ground herself down against him.

"Will you… make it a little easier for me?" Her voice was seductive even to her own ears. Voldemort tipped his head back against his pillow and slid his fingers up her thighs.

"How?"

"Just a little pain killing charm," she suggested, "so that I can ride you a little more easily?"

" _Allevio Trio_ …" He was breathless, but she felt his wandless magic course through her as his fingers touched between her legs. She pulled back the blankets and yanked at his pyjama trousers. He sprang out, looking hard as a rock, and she felt him cast a nonverbal, wandless Lubrication Charm upon himself. Bellatrix slowly stripped off her black nightgown and slid her knickers down and off, and she moved to squat rather awkwardly above Voldemort. Mercifully, he held her hands tightly, and once she was lined up, she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Oh." His voice cracked as she slid down over his tip. She knew he could feel the way this pushed and stretched and challenged her body. She could sense, too, his satisfaction, the way he was being stimulated. She could see her own body, thin but womanly, from his perspective.

 _Beautiful, beautiful, mine,_ she felt him think, and she fully opened herself up to him knowing that she found him almost painfully attractive and devastatingly handsome.

 _Big. Enormous. Unbelievable. Can't fit, can't fit_. She knew he'd be feeling all those thoughts, too. Somehow, she managed to take more than half of him in, and she moved onto her knees for more support. Voldemort released one of her hands and let it migrate to her breast, where he massaged and pinched. She could tell he thought she was beautifully soft here, and she whispered,

"I like that, when you touch me like that."

"I know," he mumbled. "Will you… move?"

"Oh. Yes, Master." Bellatrix struggled to go up and down a few times, wincing at the powerful sensation of her body straining to accommodate him. Even without pain, it was a strong feeling - pressure and exertion. She moved a few more times and then stopped, finding herself panting rather frantically.

"Sorry," Voldemort said softly, and she realised he was the one whose breath had accelerated. Their linked hearts sped up, too, and he said a bit helplessly, "I've never been able to last with you. Do you know, it used to take me a half hour sometimes to finish myself off with own hands? I'd have to dream up all sorts of wild things, and none of them were enough to make it go quickly. Lots of lubrication and enough physical touch would do it after awhile. But with you, Bella… just a moment of being inside of you is almost too much to endure. I can't… it feels…"

 _Good,_ she felt his mind finish. _So good, too good. It feels perfect._

"Please just come inside me," Bellatrix whispered. "I want to feel it from you. With you."

His eyes met hers then, and suddenly she could hear their shared pulse in her ears. She could feel his breath in her lungs. She could feel his blood in her veins. His eyes flashed scarlet after a blink, and they stayed red as she moved up and down a few more times on him. His lips parted, and she joined him in winding up, closer and closer, hurtling off the edge. He blinked quickly and his eyes went dark again, and her name escaped his lips a few times as he took her hands in his again.

Bellatrix shut her eyes and tipped her head back, climaxing right alongside him as the shared sensation of warm pleasure overcame them both. She wanted more, right now, and he said in a hoarse voice,

"That damned Icelander warned me we'd both want too much."

"Well, perhaps… perhaps if it didn't feel so perfect," Bellatrix complained sarcastically, her body still clenching with little erratic cinches of bliss.

Ten minutes later, she was in the shower, and as she rinsed her hair, she heard Voldemort spit out his toothpaste and say from the sink,

"I need you to take Rabastan Lestrange's place as a soldier until he's back in order. There's a goblin squad headed up to North Yorkshire in a few days. Get the dossier from Avery. You'll be working with a goblin called Griphook. He's been well-paid, but I don't know if we can trust him. Take him out at the first sign of a problem. You'll be targeting a Gringotts goblin who signed the statement of neutrality."

Bellatrix felt a flush of happiness go through her, and she heard Voldemort scoff a little.

 _Bloodthirsty little monster. You like killing_.

"I can't help it," Bellatrix said simply, rinsing her hair and shutting her eyes as she focused on the feel of his breath again. She liked to do that, to feel his body meshed with hers at the most fundamental level. She opened her eyes and said firmly, "I'll gladly fill in for Rabastan, My Lord. I'll always serve you. No matter what."

"I know," he said quietly. "I knew that night, when you were sixteen and insisted that you wanted nothing else but to serve me. I knew then, and I know now. You're mine to the marrow of your bones."

Bellatrix nodded. "To the marrow of my bones, Master."

 **Author's Note: Raise your hand if you foresee something bad happening on Bellatrix's mission to take out a goblin! Uh-oh… nothing's ever smooth sailing for too long aboard this ship, eh?**

 **A massive, massive thank you to those who commented on the first chapter of this story. I am so encouraged by the fact that there are still people reading this storyverse. I'm really looking forward to exploring the idea of sh*t hitting the fan and crumbling a bit while Bellatrix and Voldemort are essentially functioning as a single unit. I hope that you enjoy this last installment in this storyverse, and I would be very grateful to hear any thoughts you might have while you're reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

"So. You're Griphook." Bellatrix folded her arms over her chest and glared down at the little goblin before her. He sneered back up at her and said,

"Madam Lestrange. I've heard quite a lot about you."

"It's not been _Madam Lestrange_ for some time now," Bellatrix said. "I'm the Dark Lady now."

Griphook did not laugh, nor did he scowl. He just stared, and finally he said, "To goblins, there are no lords. No ladies. Dark or Light or anything in between. I owe no witch or wizard my loyalty."

"You owe my master your loyalty," Bellatrix snapped. "You're being paid more than enough to demand your loyalty."

"So long as the coin comes in, I'll do as Mr Riddle says," Griphook snarled. "This goblin tonight, this goblin outside Scarborough. I want to tell you something about him."

"Go ahead." Bellatrix shifted her weight in the gardens outside Malfoy Manor, and Griphook said matter-of-factly,

"Mordock, this goblin. He got a promotion instead of me at Gringotts. I suppose I should be more angry at your father than at Mordock, but just the same, he stole the position I wanted."

Bellatrix curled up half her mouth. "All right, then. He's alone in his little house. I'll supervise. You do the killing. Show me what you're capable of, Mr Griphook."

"Let's go, Madam Lestrange," Griphook said, and he Disapparated at once. Bellatrix frowned and quickly followed, thinking of the goblin Mordock's home outside Scarborough.

 _Be quick and careful_ , she felt Voldemort think. Suddenly, in the dying light of the evening, Griphook scowled up at her and noted,

"You have two pulses. Two sets of breath. Something is wrong with you."

"Perhaps you're paying entirely too much attention to my heart and lungs," Bellatrix snapped. She knew that goblins had their own magic, but this was odd. She narrowed her eyes and heard a distant church bell chime seven.

"There's the cottage." Bellatrix gestured down a little hill toward a small stone structure, and she commanded, "Go take out the little shit that stole your job, Griphook."

"He's not in the cottage," Griphook said. He bared his teeth in an awful smile and said, "Tell your father I said thank you for all the money. All fifty thousand Galleons."

"Fifty thousand… what the blazes are you talking about?" Bellatrix demanded, and she thought at Voldemort,

 _Something's wrong. Something's off. You should come. Quickly._

She could feel him panic a little, then felt his heart and breathing speed up in her own chest. His pulse in the ether was crimson with frustration.

"Fifty thousand Galleons," Griphook said again. "Perhaps if he hadn't been so clumsy in storing money at the bank. Fifty thousand for me, and fifty thousand for Mordock. Loyalty, as it happens, is a very fluid thing. Goodbye, Madam Lestrange."

He vanished into thin air then, and Bellatrix scowled at the empty space where he'd been. All of a sudden, Voldemort appeared beside her, standing very close and looking enraged.

"A hundred thousand Galleons?" he exclaimed, and she realised he'd watched the scene unfold along with her. She shrugged and admitted,

"I can't see in their minds. My Legilimency doesn't work on goblins."

"No, mine either." Voldemort snarled in anger and jammed his wand down the hill toward the cottage. " _BOMBARDA!_ "

The cottage exploded as if a bomb had detonated inside. Bellatrix gasped and cast a quick Shield Charm, for stones from the cottage walls flew out in every direction. One hit the shield and fell to the earth, and as the cottage burned, Voldemort levitated the stone with his wand and flung it through the air, sending it soaring into a tree. He was absolutely furious, Bellatrix knew. She could feel his rage in their shared heartbeat, in their catching, uneven breath. She could feel his anger in her clenching stomach and her throbbing head.

"My Lord," she whispered, but he slashed his wand toward a cluster of trees and hissed,

" _Confringo!_ "

They burst alive with angry flames, and Voldemort dragged his wand from left to write.

" _Diffindo! Diffindo Trio!_ "

The trunks of the trees were sliced apart by his spells, and the burning trees toppled over onto the field one by one. Bellatrix waited for Voldemort to calm just a little, and she shut her eyes. She willed their hearts slow, willed their breath to steady, and she thought,

 _This is my father's fault. He was clumsy and lazy with the finances. Punish him._

"Shut up! Shut up! Get out of my head!" His Occlumency shields went up like a brick wall, and he whirled on Bellatrix, looking furious. "Get out of my fucking head, Bella."

"I can't," she said softly. She stared at the burning husk of the cottage down the hill and shrugged. "Well, if that goblin was in there, he isn't anymore."

"Go to your parents' house," Voldemort growled. "Get your father. Tell him to come to my office at the Manor. Immediately."

"Why don't you just call him through his Mark?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort took a few steps toward her. She couldn't feel anything from him right now. Her heartbeat was her own. It was bizarre and awful. Bellatrix gulped as she stared up at him, and he said simply,

"I've ordered you to go fetch your father to my office. Are you my servant, or aren't you?"

Bellatrix nodded once. "To the marrow of my bones, Master."

And with that, she Disapparated, leaving him alone in the field outside Scarborough, surrounded by the detritus of his rage.

* * *

"Cygnus. Sit down." Voldemort paced by the office window as a chilly rain began to fall in the darkness outside. He pulled the window open, deciding he wanted to feel the wind, to hear the rain. He sighed and watched the reflection in the mirror, watched as Cygnus Black III nervously sat down.

Voldemort opened himself up to Bellatrix again and took a moment to calibrate. Her heart was racing with nerves, and she was standing by a window, too. She'd gone back to the Master's Manor and was by an open window in the library.

 _If you do not wish to see your father completely humiliated,_ Voldemort thought, _put your shields up now._

He felt her thinking that Voldemort needed to do what he would. He felt her loyalty, a tense braid of devotion threading from her mind into his. He shut his eyes and nodded to himself. He turned around, knowing his eyes were red as soon as he saw the look of terror in his father-in-law's own eyes.

"M-My Lord." Cygnus bowed his head, and he said, "Bellatrix told me that something happened with the goblin Griphook. May I ask… may I ask what's happened?"

"Oh, yes. You may ask, and I will tell you," Voldemort snapped. He stood behind his own chair, his fingers curling tightly on the leather. "But first, I'll tell you something else, Cygnus. I wonder… have you got any idea what sorts of things I do to your eldest daughter?"

Cygnus' face went red, and he shut his eyes. "Seeing as you are her husband, Master, I'm sure I have some idea."

"I don't think you have any idea," Voldemort smirked. He took a long, smooth breath, feeling Bellatrix's morbid curiosity around the edges of his thoughts. Then he pulled his chair out, sat down, and folded his hands on the desk. He cleared his throat and barked, "Look me in the eye, Cygnus."

Cygnus did, slowly raising his gaze to the wizard with murder in his twinned soul. He seemed afraid, ashamed, and more as Voldemort said softly,

"You kept one hundred thousand Galleons in vaults that were apparently _very_ easily accessed by two goblins who teamed up to betray me. One hundred thousand Galleons. Gone, dissolved into the air just like the goblin who was meant to be killed tonight and the one who was meant to kill him. You have utterly failed, Cygnus. You are derelict of duty."

Cygnus' mouth fell open, and he whispered, "My Lord, I am so very sorry. I will be so much more careful in future, and I -"

"I like to come on Bella's face," Voldemort said suddenly, "and she likes it, too. She likes it quite a lot. She's a bit of a glutton for the taste and smell of it, you see."

Cygnus' face went ruby red and then drained of all colour. He licked his bottom lip carefully and coughed a few times. He seemed like he might be sick, and he said,

"Master, I will personally replace the lost funds. That money will be pulled from my own vaults and placed in an account at a Danish bank for you. I will add an extra fifty thousand, My Lord."

"An extra seventy-five thousand Galleons will be fine. Thank you," Voldemort nodded.

 _I knew we couldn't trust those fucking goblins_ , he felt Bellatrix think, and he rolled his eyes a little.

 _It wasn't as though I could let Dumbledore claim them, and, anyway, you should watch what happens next. Your poor Daddy._

He could feel her laughter then, and he was suddenly aware of all the times Cygnus had punished Bellatrix as a child, all the times she'd been tied with Conjured ropes to a chair leg or whipped with spells from her father's wand. Cygnus' screaming voice, scolding his daughter's Darkness, reverberated through the bond. Voldemort cleared his throat and stared at his father-in-law, listening to the rain. Finally, Cygnus said,

"One hundred and seventy-five thousand Galleons will be in a vault controlled by sympathetic wizards in Denmark, My Lord. I will have it done as quickly as possible."

"Quicker than that," Voldemort said. He stroked at his jaw and said thoughtfully, "Her poor little mouth doesn't really fit around it. I'm rather… oversized, you understand."

"Master." Cygnus shook his head and lowered his eyes, and Voldemort snarled,

"I told you to look me in the eye."

Cygnus shook his head again, still staring at his lap, and Voldemort picked up his wand, nonverbally dragging his father-in-law's humiliated and horrified gaze up. Cygnus' eyes watered, and he mumbled,

"If this is because of the parties, My Lord, I can promise you that I -"

"The parties were a mistake. A big mistake. Just as this - losing my money to goblins - has been a colossal mistake. You paid the price for the first one, and you'll pay the price for this one. What I'm telling you now is preventive. I hope that by hearing this information, something with click within you and stop you from making all these terrible mistakes, Cygnus."

Cygnus blinked a few times and sank his teeth into his bottom lip. He said nothing. Within Voldemort's mind, he could feel Bellatrix urging him to tell Cygnus something that would break him. Some strange part of Bellatrix was enjoying this, watching her father suffer at her master's leisure. She was thinking of a time when she was nine, when she'd earned herself two days without food because she'd lied to her father. Voldemort could feel Bellatrix's head throbbing, longing to see her father brought to the edge of what he could take.

"One time," Voldemort said calmly, and Cygnus began to tremble a little, "I put her on her hands and knees. It fits better that way, you know. Or, at least, it's easier to force it in. She was used to Rodolphus' normal little thing, but she still wasn't used to me. She is now, of course. Anyway. I put her on her hands and knees and pushed in and… Mmph. I can still hear the way she screamed into a pillow. First it was from the pain and then quickly, very quickly, she was screaming because she liked it. Please. Please, Master. I could make out those bits, even muffled by the pillow."

He drummed his fingers on his desk and huffed out a little breath as Cygnus Black III touched his shaking hand to his forehead.

"I am more sorry than I will ever be able to say to have failed you, Master."

"Just consider yourself lucky I don't tie you up, or whip you with spells, or deny you food as punishment," Voldemort said lightly. Cygnus' eyes went wide, and Voldemort smirked a little, his voice bitter and cold as he said, "That little girl who danced on my feet… you were an awful father to her then, and you're a lazy servant to her husband now. Do better, Cygnus, or the price will become more than you can pay. Understood?"

Cygnus nodded quickly. "Yes, My Lord. Understood. As soon as I leave here, I shall begin moving the funds as needed."

"Good," Voldemort said tightly. "As soon as I leave here, I'm going to fuck your daughter. In the shower tonight, probably; I need to wash off the smell of burning trees."

Cygnus shut his eyes, and Voldemort listened to the rain again for a moment. In his mind, he thought toward Bellatrix,

 _Clothes off. Wait for me in the upstairs bathroom. I really do want that shower, and I want it with you._

He cleared his throat, folded his hands again, and said neatly,

"Dismissed, Cygnus."

 **Author's Note: Welp. That's just like Griphook, isn't it? Promising his services to Voldemort and then teaming up with an "enemy" goblin to steal Voldemort's money and split the pot? Poor Cygnus. Or maybe not, seeing as how he cheated on Druella and was a bad father to Bellatrix. What do you think - did Cygnus deserve what Voldemort gave him? Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello_. He thought it or she did. They both did. It was of little consequence anymore, who thought what. They shared everything from thoughts to a pulse these days.

Bellatrix shifted on her feet and felt anxiety - his or hers, she couldn't tell which - throbbing through their bonded souls. Voldemort started stripping off his robes where he stood in the bathroom door. He did not smile. She felt only angry lust from him.

"Get in the shower," he said firmly, "and wash your body. Every last bit."

Bellatrix's lips fell open a little, but she murmured, "Yes, Master."

She stepped into the tile shower and turned the water on hot. She grabbed a bar of rose-scented soap and quickly scrubbed at herself, then scrubbed her rosy shampoo into her curls and rinsed it out.

"Perhaps I went too far," Voldemort said as he leaned back against the wall outside the shower. He was naked, Bellatrix could see, but he was just standing there with his arms folded over his chest. "Perhaps I was too vile, too obscene, even given the circumstances."

She used her fingers to wipe some of the steamy condensation off the door, and she shook her head.

"You've made seventy-five thousand extra Galleons out of this mess, and my father was punished for being careless."

"He was punished for something else, too." Voldemort's mind swirled with Bellatrix's memories of her childhood, and he mumbled, "I had no idea he treated you like that."

Bellatrix was very suddenly socked with a memory. For a moment, she thought it was hers, but as she smeared conditioning oil into her dense curls, she realised that it was his - her master's. Her hands fell as the water pounded her back, and she blinked through the memory as Voldemort stepped into the shower.

' _No, Tom. You may not come on the trip today.'_

 _Little Tom Riddle cleared his throat and folded his hands on his desk. 'Mrs Gratt, I fail to see how it is that I have not already been sufficiently punished. I was paddled. I was made to drink vinegar. I was slapped across the cheeks with leather gloves. I was thrashed across the backs of my legs. So why, exactly, can't I come to the museum, Mrs Gratt?'_

 _Mrs Gratt scowled down at Tom and said sharply, 'You destroyed every piece of clothing little Phyllis Townsend owned.'_

 _Tom glared up at the orphanage warden and snarled, 'You've no proof it was me.'_

 _Mrs Gratt shook her head sadly. 'Tom. My dear, troubled boy. We all know it was you. You're lucky you don't get turned out into the street, now that you're old enough to get an apprenticeship somewhere. Stop tormenting your fellow residents, take your punishments, and… no, you won't be going to the museum.'_

' _Fine,' Tom barked. He stared out the dirty window to the quiet street below, and he mumbled, 'Who wants to see some stupid old skeletons, anyhow?'_

Bellatrix found herself staring up at Voldemort in the shower, rotating a little so he stepped out of the water and allowed her to rinse her hair. He ran his hands slowly up and down the sides of her slick, naked body, but she felt no arousal from him. He hadn't known that she'd been mistreated as a child. He disliked knowing that, she felt as she rinsed her hair. His lips pressed to her exposed neck, but still she felt no throb of want.

 _I saw you tied to a chair,_ he thought, _cold and hungry. I left you out in the cold for hours after the botched assassination of Arthur Weasley._

"Arthur Weasley is dead, Master," Bellatrix reminded him. "That's what matters. And, anyway, I begged you to punish me. I never asked my father to starve me. I never asked my grandmother or my mother to punish me. I didn't want their wrath. And you wanted to go to that museum. But I am here with you. Can you feel me?"

"Of course I can," he whispered, and Bellatrix shut her eyes. She tipped her head back into the water and felt their synced up hearts, their breath going in and out in unison.

"I'm sorry I didn't disable Griphook," she murmured. "I'm sorry I didn't drag him back to you in chains. I'm sorry I didn't kill him."

"He was gone before you could even process what he'd said," Voldemort said, "and the other one - Mordock - he'd already taken the money."

His voice was coming from somewhere that seemed far away. Bellatrix opened her eyes and gasped, slamming her hand to the tiled wall for support when she realised Voldemort had descended to his knees. She sucked in air hard, feeling her master shut off his own bodily functions from hers. She couldn't blame him; her heart was thudding and her breath was quickening as he took her hips in his hands and urged her to part her legs a little.

 _I don't want to punish you; I want to reward you_ , she felt him think. _I want you to know that you are everything._

"Master," Bellatrix whispered. She wrenched her eyes shut as water poured over her, as Voldemort's tongue peeked out between his lips and slid up along her folds. He suckled on her clit for a moment, and she cried out wordlessly, her voice echoing a little in the shower.

 _Metal. Like a coin in my mouth, and warm and sweet, too. Iron and honey._

"Is that… what I really taste like?" Bellatrix asked breathlessly, and Voldemort burrowed his face into her, thinking,

 _Iron and honey._

"Oh." Bellatrix reached down and held his head in her hands, snarling her fingers into his hair. As his tongue dragged from bottom to top and back again, she remembered the feel of him saying explicit things to Cygnus Black, things about times like this. Lord Voldemort had demonstrated his dominance tonight, his mastery of everyone around him. He'd lost a hundred thousand Galleons to the trickster goblins, yes, but he'd make up for it by killing fifteen goblins in a week. He'd already made up for the lost money and then some. And he'd shown his father-in-law that neither he nor Bellatrix were people to be trifled with.

"Not anymore," Bellatrix said, knowing Voldemort would understand what she was talking about. She could feel arousal from him now, burgundy and pulsing. He liked the taste of her. He liked the way the water ran in rivulets around the curves of her entrance as it fell from the shower. He liked the way her clit felt between his lips. He liked the sound of her voice echoed off tile, the cinch of her fingers in his hands.

He was hard now. Bellatrix didn't even need to look down to see that. Did he want to fuck her, she wondered? Did he want her mouth on him?

 _Tonight, all I want is for you to come harder than you've done in a very long while, Bellatrix._

"Oh." She blinked quickly a few times and tightened her grip on his hair. She pulled him back to look at her, and the water pounded down upon his handsome face. She noticed for the first time the way little lines flared away from his eyes, the deep wrinkles on either side of his nose and mouth.

"Yes," he said softly, "I'm old. Are you just now noticing?"

Bellatrix smirked a little and shook her head. She just stared at him for a moment as he pulled his face out of the water stream. He replaced his mouth with his fingers and kept staring up at her. Bellatrix wondered distantly if his knees hurt, and he laughed quietly.

"They'll creak like an old door when I stand back up, but they're fine. Bella…"

He twisted two fingers into her, making her knees weak, and he pressed his thumb to her clit. She watched his left hand toy with the tip of his cock, pumping quickly in time with his hand on her. She blinked slowly, feeling pleasure start to overwhelm them both, and she mumbled,

"Oh, I'm going to… mmm…"

 _Come for me, Bellatrix._

His thought felt like warm butter, like a satin sheet beneath her. It sent her right over the edge, and she kept eye contact with him as she came. She watched his come spurt out onto the wet tile, their bodies contracting and clenching at the same time. His satisfaction swirled up in her mind with her own, a blazing fire that flared up and almost exploded. Voldemort's hand shook as he slowly pulled it from Bellatrix's body.

She knew better than to try and help him stand. He had far too much dignity for that. Still, she noticed his age again as he winced, as she felt the twinge of ache in his knees and hips when he stood. He frowned at her a little and then said,

"I can feel your youth, too, you know. It's all give and take."

Bellatrix smiled a little at that, reaching behind her to shut off the water. Voldemort just stood there in the tile shower, staring at Bellatrix as they both shivered, wet and chilled.

"I'll kill all the stinking little bastards," he whispered. "Every last goblin. I'll pick them off, all of them. They have no loyalty. I can't count on them. I'll eradicate them entirely and staff Gringotts with witches and wizards."

Bellatrix nodded. "Right. We'll begin a campaign to wipe the creatures out."

Voldemort's happiness swelled inside Bellatrix, along with something else. An ambitious, determined sort of excitement, distinct from sexual arousal but similar in flavour. Bellatrix put her hands on Voldemort's shoulders and tipped her head.

"No more goblins," she said in a bit of a teasing voice. When he smirked, she whispered again, "No more goblins."

"They'll be gone from Britain," he agreed. "I'll kill every last one of the little cretins if I have to do it myself. And in a few days' time, I'll have a letter from a bank in Denmark confirming a deposit of one hundred and seventy-five thousand Galleons of Cygnus Black's money in my name."

Bellatrix grinned, shut her eyes, and shook her head. "You told him you liked to come on my face."

"I do like to come on your face." Voldemort sounded almost giddy all of a sudden, and then his lips were beside her ear as he whispered or thought, _And you like it, too, don't you? Just like I told him._

Bellatrix felt him starting to go hard again; he was firming up and pressing against her abdomen. She dragged her fingers along his stiffening shaft and murmured,

"You know, I _do_ like when you come on my face. But… My Lord… can we do it on the bed? I'm wet, and cold, and the tile is - oof!"

She giggled then, swept up by the Dark Lord's strong and able arms and carried from the bathroom.

* * *

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I'm not wearing this. No."

Bellatrix glared at the full-length mirror in the bedroom. She crossed her arms over her concave stomach and growled, "No. Not wearing it."

 _It can't possibly be that bad,_ Voldemort said from his office at Malfoy Manor, and Bellatrix thought toward him,

 _It's silver. Silver sequins. Look._ She showed him in her mind the way she looked in the mirror. This was the gown Narcissa had chosen for Bellatrix to wear at the wedding. Bellatrix, along with Narcissa's other bridesmaids Nadia Goyle and Polly Fawley, would wear the gown in six weeks' time. Only, she wouldn't, because she refused. Bellatrix wore dark colours, only black if she could help it. She did not wear silver sequins.

The dress Narcissa had chosen was a sleevless creation in solid sequined silver over silk. It encased the female form perfectly, sliding smoothly along Bellatrix's narrow body with a little train that pooled behind. It was so obnoxiously bright, so incredibly sparkly, and that was diametrically opposed to Bellatrix's aesthetic.

 _Bella! Stop complaining. You look beautiful._

She smiled just a little at the feel of Voldemort's thoughts and dragged her hands over her torso and hips. She swallowed hard and thought,

 _I look like a cheap frying pan. Or a spoon. A freshly minted Sickle._

She could feel his laughter then, and all of a sudden she was very aware of the fact that he was stepping into the fireplace in his office at Malfoy Manor and traveling by Floo Powder. She was aware of his presence in the Master's Manor, and she just let her head fall a little, staring at her reflection again. She'd tied her hair up in a braided bun around the crown of her head just like Narcissa had requested. She had on high-heeled silver shoes… just like Narcissa had requested. In just a few weeks, she'd look like this in public.

"I told you to stop complaining," said a voice from the doorway. Bellatrix looked up, and Voldemort smiled a bit as he stepped into the bedroom. He stood behind her, snaring his arms around her and noting, "It's backless."

"It's a scooped back, Master," Bellatrix corrected, and Voldemort shrugged.

"I'll be able to touch your skin whilst we dance, and that's what matters. Dance with me, Bella."

He whirled her away from the mirror and immediately swept her into a two-step. Bellatrix frowned and said,

"I don't hear any music."

"No? Must just be me." He seemed energised, like he'd taken some kind of potion, and he whispered, "Better?"

Suddenly there were strings playing a lively march-like piece in Bellatrix's head. She caught onto the beat and danced tightly with Voldemort, and she asked,

"What's got you in such a mood, Master?"

"Other than my impossibly beautiful young wife?" Voldemort asked. Bellatrix raised her brows and said,

"Yes, other than that. What's happened?"

Voldemort gave her a wicked little look and hissed,

"Seventy-eight. In two hours. The raids… I sent them out this afternoon and it went perfectly. Seventy-eight goblins dead. Can you imagine the _Prophet_ tomorrow? I'm holding a meeting in the morning. I'd love to see what Dumbledore thinks of this, what the bleeding Ministry thinks. I didn't lose a single Death Eater, Bella. Seventy-eight damned goblins. Gone. Dead."

Bellatrix pulled back suddenly from the dance, shaking her head in confusion.

"Wh-Why wasn't I on the mission?"

She knew he could feel her hurt, her confusion, and he pursed his lips. He scratched at his jaw a little and said in a tight, irritated voice,

"Don't ruin this for me, Bellatrix. I am just happy that -"

"Why wasn't I on a squad taking out goblins today, My Lord?" Bellatrix snapped, putting her hands on her sequin-covered hips. The music in her head went silent, and Voldemort's soul flared with a violet-hued splatter of irritation. She could feel the answer to her question. He couldn't fathom the thought of strange goblin magic taking her out, necessitating her Horcrux. He cleared his throat and said firmly,

"I trust you in battle against any witch or wizard on Earth, Bellatrix. Against the best, because you are the best. But I do not know what those goblins are capable of doing, and I couldn't risk -"

"You thought I'd fail," Bellatrix said in a broken little voice, and Voldemort's cheekbones flushed as he whispered,

"Do not ever interrupt me again."

Bellatrix shrank back a little, feeling a surge of protective anger inside of him. He reached suddenly and pulled at the pins in Bellatrix's hair, yanking out her braided bun and sending her curls falling down in messy clumps. He raked through them roughly until her hair fell around her shoulders, and he said,

"The dress is beautiful, but your hair is to be worn down. Direct orders from the Dark Lord; you may inform your sister."

Then he took Bellatrix's face in his hands, and she could feel what he was thinking. He knew she was competent with a known enemy, but he couldn't trust that she'd make it out of a skirmish gone wrong when it came to goblins. He couldn't risk her. He couldn't lose her; he couldn't go on if something were to happen to her.

Bellatrix let out a very long sigh, still irritated but calming herself as she murmured, "Congratulations, My Lord, on the raids taking out so many goblins in one day."

"I'm going back to Malfoy Manor. I have follow-up to conduct," Voldemort said tersely. He bent and touched his lips to Bellatrix's cheek and whispered, "The next time you see Alastor Moody, take his other eye out."

Then he stood and stalked quickly away. He paused in the door, turned round, and locked gazes with Bellatrix for a moment before he said,

"You… you are _everything_ , My Lady."

Her lips fell open then, and his Occlumency shields shot up between them as he walked out of the bedroom.

 **Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in updating. My son has been extremely sick with influenza and we have a trip to Disney World starting Friday morning (awesome timing, yeah!), so I just haven't had the chance to write. I apologize. I appreciate your patience and your readership. As always, reviews are appreciated beyond measure.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Bella, dear. Thank you so much for coming for tea. Do come in."

Bellatrix followed her mother down the home's main-floor corridor and to the left into the small, informal dining room where tea was usually served. Everything was already set up - a perfect porcelain service with boxes of orange and rose flavoured teas. Bellatrix sat and immediately put a strainer over her cup, scooping rose tea into it. As she poured some hot water from a pot, she asked softly,

"So, Mummy. What brings me to your magnificent home today?"

Druella cleared her throat softly, ignoring her own tea. Bellatrix raised her eyes as she took her first sip of tea, and Druella finally said,

"Your father… he's been rather a mess."

"Has he?" Bellatrix asked lightly. "Was he angry that he had to pay a fine for his carelessness?"

"N-No." Druella shook her head and reached rather impulsively for a macaron from the tea tower. She took a bite and chewed, and when she set the biscuit down, she said, "For days, he wouldn't tell me. Everything was fine, he said, but he was distant. Distracted."

"I can't be a marriage counsellor for you," Bellatrix said, feigning an apologetic tone. She felt a curious prodding in her mind, and she showed Voldemort what was happening. She felt his breath in her lungs, and she took a moment to inhale and hold it, savouring the feel of him.

"The Dark Lord punished your father," Druella said, looking embarrassed. "He told him awful things about you."

"Awful? No." Bellatrix shook her head and set down her teacup. "The Dark Lord told the truth. If Daddy was uncomfortable, that's his fault. As was losing a hundred thousand Galleons to unscrupulous goblins. But no matter; the goblin population is half of what it was a month ago."

Bellatrix felt amusement from Voldemort through their bond, and finally Druella huffed a breath and said,

"Your sister's home in a week's time. I should like to count on you to help with final preparations for the wedding."

"That's not my job," Bellatrix shrugged. "My job is to serve the Dark Lord. I'm doing Cissy a favour by wearing that ghastly silver number she's chosen to torture me with. What else could you need of me?"

Druella blinked a few times and scoffed. Then she said quietly, "How very selfish you have always been."

"Every time I come here, I'm insulted and scolded," Bellatrix pointed out, "but I came, Mummy, because you asked me to. Have you any specific reason for bringing me here, or am I merely to be chastised for existing again?"

Druella shut her eyes and brought her shaking fingers to her forehead as she whispered, "I've had an owl from Andromeda."

"From whom?" Bellatrix raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "Doesn't ring a bell."

Druella scowled. "I'd like to let her come to the wedding. Not the Mudblood, and not their baby. But just Andie, you know?"  
"No." Bellatrix shook her head firmly. "No, that Blood Traitor will not be anywhere near Malfoy Manor. She's a security threat, and you're not to communicate with her."

Druella's eyes watered a little, and she hissed, "Are you commanding your own mother to never, ever, ever contact her middle daughter again?"

"You have two daughters," Bellatrix said firmly, rising from her chair, "and if you contact that terrible woman who calls herself Andromeda, you'll have nothing at all. Your punishment will far exceed anything poor Daddy received."

"You're threatening me," Druella said in shock, and Bellatrix shrugged.

"I am warning you, Mother. Andromeda is not a part of this family anymore. She must not be privy to anyone's whereabouts, and she certainly is not welcome at any gatherings. If I ever see her in battle, I will treat her like any other enemy."

"Bellatrix," Druella whispered from her chair, but Bellatrix shook her head.

"We are at war, Mummy, and Andromeda chose the wrong side. I'll be at Malfoy Manor the morning of Cissy's wedding in the awful silver gown, my hair down as per the Dark Lord's orders. I will stand there with the cream peonies and roses clutched in my hand, and you may even catch a little smile on my face. But if I were to see Andromeda Tonks at that wedding, I'd whip my wand out and cast a Killing Curse before you knew what was happening. Anything else?"

Druella lowered her eyes to the table and shook her head. Bellatrix nodded.

"Good day, Mummy."

* * *

"Did I overstep, Master?" Bellatrix asked at dinner. Voldemort looked up from his grilled chicken and rice and blinked.

"With your mother, you mean."

"Yes." Bellatrix cut into her chicken and took a bite, and she felt Voldemort's happiness at the way she was eating of her own volition. She felt her cheeks go hot, and she said, "If I keep eating like this, Cissy's awful silver gown won't fit."

"You were exactly right," Voldemort told her, sipping from his white wine, "about everything but the dress. It looks entirely lovely on you, and I'll hear no more complaint about it."

Bellatrix frowned and opened her mouth. "But it -"

"I said no more complaining, if you please." Voldemort took another bite of chicken, and Bellatrix licked her lip as she thought,

 _Yes, Master._

"You were very right to tell her what you did. Your mother." Voldemort set down his knife and fork and folded his hands on the tablecloth. "If Andromeda showed her face, she would have to die. You were right to be blunt about that. There can be no equivocation."

"You know that my only loyalty is to you," Bellatrix said firmly. "They can go on and on about _Toujours Pur_ and the Noble House of Black, but none of it matters really, does it? All that matters is you."

Voldemort stood slowly and came walking around the table slowly. He dragged his fingers on the wood and tipped his head.

"All that matters is your husband?"

"My husband. My master." Bellatrix felt their hearts speed up just a little, and she rose from her chair. "There is nothing else that matters. Only you."

"You're going to kill Alastor Moody for me," Voldemort said in a low purr, and Bellatrix snaked her arms around his waist.

"I am?"

"Mmm-hmm." Voldemort nodded slowly and said, "He's got a friend who's a goblin. A little creature called Robbick. Word is that Robbick is hiding at a cottage owned by Moody up in Scotland. If we attack Robbick, Moody will come. And I want you to take him out. I want to watch you kill him."

"Why Moody?" Bellatrix asked with a little smile, and Voldemort shrugged.

"He annoys me profoundly, and it will bring me pleasure to watch you kill him."

He lowered his mouth to Bellatrix's, touching his lips to hers. She held onto his face, encouraging him to kiss her more deeply, and she thought,

 _When?_

 _The day after Narcissa's wedding to Lucius Malfoy._

Bellatrix smiled against him and kissed him again, letting his tongue tangle with hers. She imagined herself in the garish silver gown, and she remembered suddenly that Narcissa had hired a jazz band to play at the reception. They'd need to work over the next week on their swing dancing skills, she thought.

"Oh, no," Voldemort laughed, his voice a rumble in the air. "We'll destroy that gown trying to swing dance properly with you in it."

"Well, a simple _Diffindo_ after the ceremony would take it mid-thigh, don't you think?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort nodded, seeming very amused. He tucked Bellatrix's hair behind her ear and asked softly,

"Will that make you feel better? To slice up the gown?"

"Yes," Bellatrix whispered. Suddenly her hands had been seized, and she felt herself being drawn ever closer to her lord and master, her husband.

"Yes, Bella. We'll practise, because I want them all to be in complete shock about just how well their Dark Lord and Lady move together."

Bellatrix's breath hitched then, and she heard his match hers. He smirked a little at that, his pulse strengthening alongside hers.

"It'll be a beautiful wedding," he said confidently, "and we'll dance until our feet can't take any more. And then the next day, we'll lure Alastor Moody to his little goblin friend, and I will watch you take that one-eyed bastard out before me. And then, Bellatrix, I'll do all those nasty things that so horrified your parents."

Bellatrix smiled and nodded, brushing her lips against Voldemort's. Her stomach growled a little, and she wondered distantly if she'd get to finish her chicken.

"By all means, do eat." Voldemort kissed her cheek and stepped away, sitting contentedly opposite her and sipping his white wine again.

 **Author's Note: If you have a feeling something will go wrong at Narcissa's wedding and/or with the Moody assassination, raise your hand! If you love watching Bellatrix be cruel to her parents, raise your other hand! Everyone has two hands up? Good! Haha. Thank you for reading and I apologize for the short length of this chapter, as I was still caring for a sick little one today.**


	6. Chapter 6

"Ready, Cissy?" Bellatrix held out the bouquet of cream peonies and roses to her sister, who accepted them and grinned.

"How do I look?" Narcissa was pink-cheeked with anxiety, and Bellatrix felt a swell of happiness for her sister. She smiled and said kindly,

"You look like a dream."

Voldemort stood in the ballroom at Malfoy Manor, watching through Bellatrix's eyes as she and her sister and her mother fussed over themselves and prepared to come in. He shut himself off, deciding that this moment should remain private.

A few minutets later, the band at the end of the ballroom began playing a slow, elegant piece to herald the entrance of Lucius Malfoy, Rabastan Lestrange, and the younger Mulciber. Abraxas and Cerda Malfoy came in, followed by Druella Black, who was escorted to her seat by Abraxas. Then Bellatrix came walking down the aisle, looking positively resplendent in her silver sequins. She was followed by the other bridesmaids, and as she passed Voldemort, he flashed her a little smirk and thought,

 _How lovely you are in silver._

Bellatrix reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear and smiled down at her flowers. She lined up at the front with the other girls and watched as Narcissa came in on Cygnus Black's arm. Narcissa wore a flouncy confection of white tulle with long beaded sleeves and a high neck. Her blonde hair had been tied up in ringlets, and a tulle veil trailed down her back. Voldemort couldn't help thinking that Bellatrix had looked much, much more beautiful the day she'd married him.

She'd looked pretty the day the she'd married Rodolphus, too.

 _That day doesn't matter. The day I married you was the best day of my entire life._

He looked up to the front and found her eyes. She smirked just a little and nodded. Voldemort sighed, studying her delicate curves. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, even as Yaxley, the officiant, read from a text called _Moste Sacred Marriage Rites._ Bellatrix urged Voldemort through their link to watch the ceremony, but he thought straight at her,

 _You're distracting me._

Bellatrix turned up half her mouth and trained her eyes on her little sister. She started thinking about suckling on Voldemort's cock, about his come splattering on her lips and chin and dribbling down her neck, about -

 _Enough!_ Voldemort hissed through the link, quickly covering the growing bulge in his dress robes. Bellatrix laughed silently where she stood, and Voldemort frowned. _That's not funny. I'll come up there and rut you like a beast in front of everyone._

Bellatrix flicked her eyes to him and shook her head slowly, and now Voldemort couldn't help but smile a little. He finally forced himself to pay attention to the end of the ceremony. Lucius was taking his turn with the vows, his thin hands shaking wildly as his low voice audibly struggled to stay clear and calm.

"Narcissa, member of the most noble and ancient House of Black, my beloved and adored partner. Today I become your husband in my entirety - my mind, my body, and my soul - from this day until the day I die. I swear sincerely to cherish and honour you as your husband and to be faithful to you. I beg you to place upon my finger now a ring which binds me to you in marriage. May our magic unite and grant us a long and happy union."

Druella Black was sobbing into a handkerchief, grinning with uncontrolled emotion as she leaned on Cygnus' shoulder. Cerda Malfoy seemed to be doing the same. Narcissa swiped at her eyes and then slid a ring onto Lucius' finger.

Bellatrix looked bored.

 _Stand up straight and at least feign interest,_ Voldemort scolded her. Bellatrix blinked a few times and plastered a little smile on her lips.

"From this moment until your last, you are husband and wife," said Yaxley. "Congratulations, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Share a kiss to seal your union."

People applauded like mad as the couple kissed. Then they retreated down the aisle to the peals of music the band played, and Bellatrix flashed Voldemort another smile as she walked briskly by. He made his way over to a table full of Champagne, picking up two flutes and waiting for Bellatrix to come back into the ballroom. When she did, he handed her a flute of Champagne and said in a cheeky sort of voice,

"Don't tell anyone you got this from me."

"Shall I dance on your shoes, Master?" Bellatrix asked, and he took a little sip and shook his head. They watched as Lucius and Narcissa danced a messy sort of waltz, and he felt Bellatrix think,

 _We're better dancers than they are._

 _It's not our wedding,_ he thought back, _and we didn't dance very well that day, if you recall._

"Well," Bellatrix murmured aloud, "I'm going to dance five times with you tonight."

"Only five?" Voldemort finished off his Champagne and set the glass down. He sighed and studied her, the pretty look of her in sequined silver, and he knew she could feel how much he loved her. He smiled just a little and reached to brush his knuckles against her curls. "You've left your hair down."

"Of course I have. You wanted it this way," Bellatrix murmured, reaching up to cover his hand with hers. "You must always have what you want. Even my wild hair."

"I like it wild," he replied, and then he lost himself in her eyes.

Until there was a series of screams, the clatter of furniture toppling over, and bright flashing light.

Everything happened in a blur then. Voldemort realised in a split second of alarm that goblin magic could override anti-Apparition charms. They were popping into the room one by one, at least three dozen of them, casting spells that shattered windows and sent bodies flying against the walls.

" _STUPEFY THEM!_ " Voldemort yelled, Amplifying his voice to boom through the hectic ballroom. He didn't want Killing Curses missing and hitting bystanders. He burst forth with his wand out and shouted again, " _STUPEFY THE GOBLINS. IF YOU ARE NOT A DEATH EATER, GET OUT!"_

" _Stupefy! Stupefy, Stupefy!"_ Bellatrix was shrieking beside him. Blue flashes of light rocketed everywhere as witches in formalwear, ancient wizards, and even children went dashing in a mad scramble from the ballroom. Death Eaters had their wands out, a few locked into duels with the invaders. Voldemort quickly Stupefied four goblins, and as he aimed his wand at another one, the goblin raised his hand and sent a quick burst of green from his palm.

Voldemort watched in horror as Druella Black, who had been running out of the ballroom, collapsed. Voldemort reached out to feel for her mind, but there was nothing. Druella had been killed.

" _Avada Kedavra,_ " he said numbly, and a jade green spell slammed into the goblin who had killed Druella. Soon enough, the goblins all lay Stunned or dead on the ground. The mirrored walls of the ballroom were almost all destroyed. The crystal chandelier lay in shards on the ground, and the floral decorations were in pieces all over the place.

"Malfoy, get outside and ward this place up like a prison; I don't want Dumbledore or his gang to turn up. Yaxley, go see if there are any guests wounded. Mulciber, get yourself to Healer Crabbe; I think he's in the corridor outside. He'll fix that arm. Avery, Nott. Go round and execute these goblins, then Vanish the corpses. Get me an exact count. Lucius…"

He turned then to face Lucius Malfoy, who was staring at the place where Druella Black lay dead on the ground. Bellatrix and Cygnus were huddled beside her, and Lucius asked in a quiet voice,

"Is she dead, Master?"

Voldemort nodded once. "It's a damnable shame to have your wedding day ruined, Lucius, but… now you need to be a husband. More than ever, Narcissa needs you. Go to her now. Take her to your suite, get her into a nightgown, and dose her with some Dreamless Sleep after you explain what's happened. Go look after your wife."

"Yes, Master." Lucius blinked quickly, looking shocked as he studied the destroyed ballroom. Avery and Nott were walking around, methodically casting Killing Curses at the toppled goblins and then Vanishing them. Voldemort huffed and pushed at Lucius' shoulder.

"Go!" He called after the boy's father, "Abraxas, come back here after you ward the place up. Send the guests home. We need to be ready in case there's a second wave."

He stepped over a turned-over table, his dress shoes crunching on shattered glass as he walked slowly to where Bellatrix crouched beside her father. Voldemort prepared to put his Occlumency shields up, expecting his eyes to water with tears of grief through the bond. But he felt hardly any emotion from Bellatrix. She was startled by the goblin attack. She was surprised and dazed about the idea that her mother was dead. But when she looked up at Voldemort, the words that came out of her mouth were,

"Master, have you need of me?"

"Come here," he whispered, and she rose. She glanced down to where Druella lay wide-eyed, staring stiffly at the ceiling. Cygnus swiped at his nose with his sleeve and mumbled,

"My darling… my wife, my Druella… Druella, Druella…" He finally looked up at Bellatrix and snarled, "You! Bellatrix! You ruined this day for her, her last day of life, her daughter's wedding day! She was upset before the ceremony because of you!"

"I didn't ruin anything," Bellatrix protested angrily. Voldemort frowned. Suddenly he could see Druella and Bellatrix in Narcissa's dressing room.

' _I'll never forgive you for making me wear this thing, Cissy.'_

 _Narcissa laughed quietly and dabbed some rouge onto her cheeks. 'You'll get over it, Bella.'_

' _Bellatrix, for once in your life, can you kindly not spoil an event with your sour attitude?' Druella was nervously attending to her own hair, and she whirled over her shoulder from the mirror. Bellatrix scowled and said,_

' _I'm just teasing her.'_

' _Teasing her. On her wedding day. Yes, it's all fun and games to you, isn't it? What a foul little creature you are. What an awful creature you've always been. Go get lined up; I'll bring Narcissa out.'_

 _Bellatrix pinched her lips into a line and rubbed at Narcissa's shoulder. 'You really do look like a dream, Cissy.'_

That was the last thing her mother had ever said to her, Voldemort realised. Calling her a foul and awful creature was the last thing her mother had ever done to Bellatrix. He gulped as Cygnus let out a cry of unmitigated grief and burrowed his face against Druella's shoulder.

"War is unforgiving," Voldemort said softly, "and your benevolent master is very sorry for this loss, Cygnus. Goyle!"

He gestured for the middle-aged Death Eater to come over, and he said gently,

"Help Cygnus take Druella into the office down the corridor. Lay her out with a Preserving Charm. As soon as all this mess is cleared away, we'll see to it that she's buried properly, that she has a proper funeral."

Goyle helped Cygnus stand, and the two of them used their wands to Levitate Druella Black's body. Bellatrix suddenly experienced a jolt of shock, and she almost collapsed. Voldemort reached for her, wrapping her up in his arms as she began to violently shake.

"I c-can't… I don't… she's dead," Bellatrix whispered. "No, no, no. Oh, Mummy. Stupid _fucking_ goblins!"

She pounded at Voldemort's chest, her fists flying, and he let her do it. Cygnus gave him a concerned look, but Voldemort said,

"Attend to her body for now, Cygnus. Your daughters have their husbands. All will be well. I am sorry for you."

"Master." Cygnus nodded and then stared at Druella, his red face breaking into tears again as he reluctantly followed Goyle from the demolished ballroom.

"Bella. Bellatrix. Look at me." Voldemort pulled her back by her shoulders and met her wide eyes. He swallowed hard and said, "I need you to be a soldier now."

"Yes." She nodded, still shaking hard, and he asked,

"Can you get yourself to my office? Use the Floo fireplace?"

"Yes," she said again, looking almost confused.

"Go home. Go to The Master's Manor," Voldemort whispered. "I have to stay here in case there's a second wave. I have to stay here, and then I'll come for you. I want you to take an entire bottle of Draught of Peace and get into bed. I'll come home to you as soon as I can. All right?"

"Yes." She said the word for the third time, turning and walking away without another word. Voldemort felt a terrible ache of worry for her as her heels crunched on all the glass, as she made her way out into the corridor, looking like a ghost in her torn silver dress.

 **Author's Note: Oh, dear. So unlike Bill and Fleur's wedding, this one was the Malfoys', and it was broken up by goblins. Boo, goblins, amirite? And as much of a wench as Druella was, too bad she had to go and die and ruin Narcissa's special day!**

 **I am leaving in a few hours for a vacation (Disney World, yay!), so for the next week or so, my writing will be a bit sporadic. I will update whenever I get a chance. In the meantime, I appreciate your feedback more than I can say.**


	7. Chapter 7

" _Wait for me, girls. I'll bring you roses and you'll bring me thorns. Wait for me, girls. I have loved you since before you were born._ "

Bellatrix stared out the window at the vibrantly full moon. The werewolves that fought for Voldemort would be affected tonight, she thought distantly.

Her mother was dead.

Somehow, that knowledge made Bellatrix think of a lullaby that Druella used to sing. It was a distant memory, a song nearly forgotten, but as Bellatrix gazed out the window, heavily drugged by a near overdose of Draught of Peace, she whispered,

" _Wait for me, girls. I'll bring you roses and you'll bring me thorns. Wait for me, girls. I have loved you since before you were born._ "

Bellatrix blinked a few times and focused on the grooves and craters on the moon, so visible tonight, and she remembered a time when she'd been very small indeed.

 _Druella was heavily pregnant, sitting on the bench outside the country house as the sun went down. Tiny Andromeda was to her left, and Bellatrix to her right, both girls cradled up in their mother's arms._

' _Well, girls,' Druella said, 'what do you think? Will it be a little boy or a little girl?'_

' _Is girl!' cried Andromeda confidently, her smile broad and tiny teeth gleaming. 'Is girl, girl, girl.'_

 _Druella laughed quietly. 'What do you think, my beautiful Bella? Will it be a little girl?'_

' _I'd rather a brother,' Bellatrix said seriously, staring out at the moor. 'I've got one too many sisters.'_

' _That's terribly rude,' Druella scolded. Andromeda reached around Druella's pregnant belly and patted Bellatrix's snarled curls._

' _Love you, Bella!' Andromeda said, and when Bellatrix didn't answer, Druella sighed, put one hand over her swollen abdomen, and began to sing softly._

' _Wait for me, girls. I'll bring you roses and you'll bring me thorns. Wait for me, girls. I have loved you since before you were born.'_

"Bellatrix?"

She blinked. Then she smiled a little, knowing that Voldemort had felt her memory along with her. She turned her head slowly from the window to see that he was sitting on the bed beside her, clad in pyjama trousers and smelling of soap.

"You're all cleaned up," Bellatrix drawled. "What time is it?"

"Half past three" Voldemort petted Bellatrix's curls and lay down carefully. She turned to face him, and he rubbed between her shoulder blades as he said, "We had to ensure there wouldn't be a second wave. I miscalculated with the goblins, Bella. I made a mistake… I underestimated how they'd fight back."

"No." Bellatrix shook her head slowly and put her hand flat on his chest. "No, My Lord. No. You tried to get them to fight for you, but they lacked any semblance of loyalty. Even payment wasn't enough. They've been a menace for centuries. How many died tonight?"

Voldemort let out a little breath and said, "Thirty-nine goblins… and your mother."

Bellatrix blinked and felt him thinking about the idea that Druella couldn't have a public funeral. There couldn't be large gatherings, not now. Not if they wanted to avoid this spiraling into a massive war for which they weren't fully prepared or armed. The Death Eaters needed to retreat underground, go mostly quiet for a few months. The disaster at Narcissa's wedding had been a major blow, and there could be no parties or attacks for some time. The heat needed to fade a little, or the entire movement would be jeopardised.

"Just… just have my sister and Lucius, my father and me. And you." Bellatrix nodded slowly and suggested, "We could bury her on the grounds of Malfoy Manor so the body doesn't have to be moved. I'm sure Abraxas wouldn't mind if we put her in the Malfoy family cemetery out back."

"Bella." Voldemort licked his bottom lip and said softly, "Your father and I buried her in the grounds at Malfoy Manor before I left. I Conjured a coffin of wood, and we put her in it. I carved her name and dates onto a slab of stone, which I polished up. She's already buried."

"Oh." Bellatrix felt a little sad then, and she started to sing quietly, " _Wait for me, girls. I'll bring you roses and you'll bring me thorns._ "

"I'm sorry," Voldemort was saying, kissing lightly at Bellatrix's cheekbones. "Bella, I am sorry."

"I want to go to Andermatt, in Switzerland," she said in a drowsy voice. "I want to go to the wizarding resort at Andermatt with you."

"We can't," Voldemort said simply. "Everyone knows who I am. We could go undercover in the Muggle world. Just for a little while. Let everything calm down. I can't be sure that this place hasn't been tracked. I can't be sure that they don't know about our cottage on the Isle of Man. So we have to go somewhere entirely different. Somewhere they can't find us. I'd like to take you to Iceland. It was beautiful there, in a stark sort of way."

"Mulciber's son was meant to be married soon. Algar. To Zahara Shacklebolt," Bellatrix mused, and Voldemort cleared his throat softly.

"It'll have to be a quiet, small affair now. Nothing can be big. Nothing can be public."

"Narcissa will a wreck," Bellatrix said, rotating onto her back and wondering aloud, "Will she go insane?"

"She's got Lucius," Voldemort reminded her, "and your father's a grown wizard. Losses are most keenly felt when they are unexpected, but... people die."

"Not us," Bellatrix whispered, and Voldemort sighed as he agreed,

"Not us, no."

Then she felt his thoughts about Iceland, about its rugged mountains and its craggy cliffs, its angry seas and peaceful meadows and hot springs. He thought of buying a house there with counterfeit Muggle money, about posing as English Muggles looking to get away from the bustle of London. He thought about staying there until early September, when the Northern Lights would be visible.

"My mother is dead," Bellatrix murmured, staring straight into Voldemort's eyes. "You buried her with my father on Malfoy land."

"I did," Voldemort nodded. There was a long, heavy silence then in which Bellatrix felt nothing. Finally, Voldemort shut his eyes and shook his head. "We can't go to Iceland. I need to stay here. I need… if something breaks out, I need to be here. We'll hide here. We'll cut off the Floo connection to Malfoy Manor, ward this place like mad, and stay here, and I'll maintain contact with all my soldiers to ensure their loyalty whilst we lay low and let the heat die down."

"I think that's very wise, Master," Bellatrix nodded. The Draught of Peace was wearing off, she could feel. She'd taken it hours before, and now her eyes welled as she said, "I wish I'd taken that Killing Curse instead of my mother. At least I have a Horcrux."

"Don't you ever say anything like that again," Voldemort snapped in a sharp whisper. He kissed Bellatrix so hard that she squealed, and he said furtively against her mouth, "Do you know how devastated I… how _destroyed_ I would be if anything had happened to you? You fought bravely, Bella; you took a number of the goblins out. You're a good soldier. But if someone had to die - you or Druella Black - then I'm glad I buried your mother earlier tonight. You understand?"

"We'll hide here," Bellatrix mumbled. "Send Coopy to get food supplies and then send him away for a while. We'll brew potions for fun. You'll have your sleeves rolled up."

"You're not making any sense," Voldemort sighed, and Bellatrix sniffled.

"Well, I'm sorry for that."

All of a sudden she felt a vibrating push on her brain, and she knew somehow that she was being Confounded. Voldemort kissed her again, so much more gently this time, and she felt him think,

 _You can send letters tomorrow to your sister and your father. Soon enough you can visit her grave, if you'd like. But you will know that I need you. You will do everything in your power to stay alive, because you are everything to me. And, tonight, you will sleep. You will fall asleep now, wrapped up in the arms of the master who adores you with every fibre of his being._

Bellatrix's eyelids grew heavy at once, and she nodded a little as she slid up closer to him. He laced an arm around her and whispered,

"Goodnight, Bella."

"Goodnight, My Lord," she replied, just before sleep overwhelmed her.

 **Author's Note: Oh, dear. Just a smidge of emotion connected to Druella's death. So now Bellatrix and Voldemort have to hide in solitude at The Master's Manor to avoid a massive war they aren't ready to win. Will Bellatrix get to see her husband brewing potions for fun with his sleeves rolled up? Mwah hahaha…**

 **Sorry for the short length of this chapter. I'm on vacation in Disney World, typing chapters on my phone, and I'm just updating when I get the chance. Normal chapter length will resume when I get home. Thanks for your patience and understanding.**


	8. Chapter 8

Voldemort stared at Bellatrix in the bed as he stood in the bathroom. He rinsed his razor under warm water and silently applauded himself for Confounding her back to sleep at five in the morning. She'd woken up panicking, and he'd willed her to sleep, telling her body to stay unconscious at least until nine. Now she lay peaceful and quiet, and he dragged his razor over his face again.

He thought about what she'd said just before she'd gone to sleep, about him brewing potions with his sleeves rolled up. She liked that sight for some reason. He could feel that. There was something about his forearms that she enjoyed, though he wasn't sure what. But if it would distract her today to watch him brew potions, then that was what he would do.

They would have to lie low now, he thought as he pulled on his white collared shirt and buttoned it up. Dumbledore and his minions would obviously get word of the skirmish with the goblins. Even if Rookwood and other Ministry plants worked to keep things quiet, news would seep out. It was important to let things calm down a bit before springing forth with unmitigated wrath again.

Voldemort rolled his sleeves up and sighed. He'd slept late himself; it was very nearly nine now. He stared at Bellatrix and whispered,

" _Finite Incantatem._ " Then he cleared his throat and gently said, "Bella."

She woke at once, springing up to sit and looking around the room. She balled her fists against her eyes and rubbed hard, and she croaked,

"Is it true? Is she dead?"

"She is," Voldemort said simply. "I'm sorry."

"I should write to Narcissa and my father," Bellatrix said, quickly making her way from the bed. She flicked her wand at the blankets to neaten them, and she Scoured her teeth and skin before raking her fingers through her messy curls and stripping off her nightgown. Voldemort stood back as she dressed quickly into leggings and a tunic, and then he reminded her,

"We're staying here for a while. Until the heat comes off."

"Oh. Right." Bellatrix shut the wardrobe and stared up at Voldemort for a moment. Then she studied his arms, the way he'd rolled up his sleeves, and she smirked. "Potion-making today, Master?"

He shrugged. "We could use some more Anodyne Draught, given that there's a war on. I thought I'd brew up quite a lot of it, just in case we ever come back here after a crisis."

Bellatrix gave him a knowing nod. "That seems wise, My Lord. You'll be working in the upstairs library?"

"Mmm-hmm. As soon as I go gather the ingredients from downstairs," Voldemort nodded. "There should be two owls hovering round outside if you want to get those letters off."

She was quiet for a moment, and then at last she murmured, "Thank you. For burying her with dignity."

Voldemort gulped. "Give them both my condolences. Especially your sister… not just for your mother, but for her wedding day."

Bellatrix's eyes welled, and she scoffed quietly. "Never thought I'd be writing a letter to my sister, sending along sentiments from my husband - The Dark Lord - about the fact that Cissy's wedding day turned into a battle in which our mother was killed."

"Yes, well… things have a way of being distinctly… unexpected," Voldemort noted. Bellatrix sank her teeth into her bottom lip and said,

"I should feel more sadness, probably. I'm awful for feeling as neutrally as I do about this."

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "I murdered my own father and grandparents in this house, and now I live here. I've got our Horcruxes hidden in the shack where my mother grew up, where I killed more of my relatives. You think I'm about to begin judging you for whether or not you're displaying adequate sentimentality at the loss of a parent?"

"I suppose not, Master. I'll go write those letters." Bellatrix started to walk off, and Voldemort grabbed her wrist carefully. She turned back, and he said in a soft voice,

"I really am sorry, Bella."

"So am I," she replied, and then she turned again and walked away.

* * *

 _Dear Cissy,_

 _I am more distraught than I can say that your wedding day turned from a scene of great joy into a night of unfathomable horror. It shatters my heart to know that your day as a bride devolved into a scene of war._

 _And then there's Mummy, and for her, I'm sorry, too._

 _I know you have Lucius, and that you are both loyal servants of the Dark Lord even in this awful time of grief and sorrow. Please know that he is thinking of you both, that he is determined to ensure that Mummy didn't die for a war we can't win, and that he feels terribly for your wedding day being ruined in so very many ways._

 _We both care deeply for you and Lucius. Write to me and let me know that you're all right. I'm worried sick over you, Cissy. I am now and always will be your big sister. And you did look like a dream._

 _Bella_

Bellatrix rolled the letter into a tight scroll and tied a black ribbon around it. She knotted the ribbon and then tied the ends to the leg of the little brown owl that was sitting on the window ledge.

"Narcissa Bla… Narcissa Malfoy, at Malfoy Manor," she told the bird firmly, and the owl flew off through the window. Bellatrix had already sent off her letter to her father. She watched the owl fly away and decided to leave the window open, for the morning was warm and pleasant.

"Lucky thing there are rose bushes outside," said a voice from behind her. Bellatrix turned quickly round to see Voldemort walking in with a hammered copper cauldron and a basket of potions ingredients. He set everything down on a table and said, "I needed three fresh red roses, and I was able to get them here without leaving."

"Oh. That's lucky." Bellatrix sank into a wingback chair and asked, "Do you mind if I just watch you?"

He smiled a little to himself, and she knew that he enjoyed this, the way that she found him attractive like this. At his age, he very rarely felt attractive, so he was more than a little pleased at the way Bellatrix was ogling him. He also wanted her to be calm and happy without drugging her up. He was trying to help. He just nodded and said almost playfully,

"I never thought of Potions as a spectator sport, but here we are."

"Well, with arms like yours, I can't help but want to watch," Bellatrix said, and Voldemort flicked his dark eyes to her.

 _Is there some logic behind the forearm appeal?_

 _No_ , she thought back. _Some things are illogical._

Voldemort chuckled quietly and set out his ingredients. He pulled out a mortar and pestle and three red roses from his basket, and then he extracted his silver knife from inside his cauldron. Once the cauldron was empty, he lit a little fire beneath it with his wand and used the knife to scrape the thorns off the roses into his mortar and pestle. He began to grind them up, which of course just set his arm muscles to work. Bellatrix swallowed hard. Was there logic to this particular attraction? No, probably not. It was probably just that forearms were a casual, ordinary, muscular place that looked very masculine when isolated by rolled-up sleeves. In any case, Bellatrix stared at him as he ground up the rose thorns, and she sighed.

"I should be more sad. I should be crying. I should feel grief," she said again, but Voldemort shook his head as he drizzled some Standard Potioning Water into his cauldron, followed by a hissing few drops of Bulbadox juice. He poured in the ground-up rose thorns and used his stirring stick to incorporate them as he told Bellatrix,

"Both of your parents have despised you for years. I can relate, to a certain degree. My father wanted precisely nothing to do with my existence. My mother died before I could ever know her. And whilst they weren't my parents, the Muggles who raised me hated me to my core for the Dark creature I was. I wasn't who they wanted me to be. You were never who your parents wanted you to be. Nothing you would have done would have ever been enough, and punishing you was a past time for them. I've seen it all clearly now, in your head and in theirs. You have Darkness in your veins, Bella, and they were hardly warm to you. It is perfectly acceptable, and perhaps expected, that you should feel ambivalence at losing one of them."

"If I somehow lost you," Bellatrix said, "I'd take a broomstick up into the clouds and hurl myself off of it."

"Don't talk like that," Voldemort scolded, frowning as he began plucking petals off of the roses and tearing them into little shreds that he dropped into the potion. Bellatrix huffed a sigh and murmured,

"I'm sorry. But it's true. I couldn't live without you."

"The Icelander who taught me how to bind myself to you… he still communes with his wife, even years after her death," Voldemort said. He stirred his potion again and leaned back against the bookshelves as it simmered. He crossed his arms over his chest and said firmly, "I don't intend on either of us dying. But know this, Bellatrix. Your father and your mother will never speak again, which is a shame. But you and I… we are bound now."

 _And we will never, ever really be separated, you understand?_ His thoughts were inside Bellatrix's mind, and she nodded. She let out a shaking breath and watched him as he began grinding up four scarab beetles.

"You're very attractive like this, Master," she assured him, "but I don't feel much like… you know…"

"No reasonable husband would expect his wife's body the day after she loses her mother, regardless of the circumstances," Voldemort snapped. He glared up at her with his mortar and pestle in his hands and said, "I'm not that much a monster. In fact, I'd planned on making you lunch today. Sausage rolls and salad. Jam tarts. A nice bottle of elderflower wine. I thought we could take a blanket outside and sit in the sun."

"A picnic?" Bellatrix smiled crookedly and picked at her legging a little. "The Dark Lord, drinking elderflower wine at a picnic?"

He didn't smile back. He just dropped the crushed beetles into his potion, added two spoonfuls of Syrup of Hellebore, and stirred methodically as he said,

"It's not meant to be silly or stupid. Today, I am nothing more or less than the husband of a witch who's suffered quite a loss. I thought perhaps you might like some sandwiches on the lawn."

Bellatrix's eyes seared so badly then that she couldn't speak out loud. All she could do was think right at him,

 _Sandwiches on the lawn sounds magnificent, Master. And I do love you, and your arms really are very attractive._

"Well," he said, stepping back from his potion as it steamed blue, "It's a warm day. Perhaps I'll keep the sleeves rolled up."

 **Author's Note: Awwwww, Bellamort fluff… commiserating about not properly mourning parents and fawning over forearms. :} I promise that there's a good sour lemon coming up, along with all the political fallout of the goblin battle. Again, I apologize for the sporadic and short writings while I'm on vacation. I still value your feedback while I'm in Disney World, though! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

"Oof." Bellatrix grunted as she swung up onto a very thick branch. She curled her leg up and lifted her weight, the sole of her boot scratching along the bark. She heaved herself up and stalked toward the trunk of the tree, startling a little when a voice from far below demanded,

"What the blazes are you doing up there?"

"I'm climbing, Master." Bellatrix grinned down from halfway up the ancient oak tree. Voldemort looked mildly concerned then as he said,

"I went inside to make lunch and came outside to see my wife behaving like a squirrel."

She laughed a little, sitting down on the branch and swinging her legs rather playfully. "You could always fly up here and fetch me."

"I think I'd rather stay here in case you fall," he replied seriously, but Bellatrix assured him,

"I've been climbing trees since I could walk, My Lord. I'm not going to fall."

To prove her point, she leaped down onto the branch below, eliciting a little sound of horror from her husband. That made her laugh harder than ever. She reached for a thinner branch and wrapped her little hands around it, making sure her grip was steady before pushing her feet off the bark and swinging.

"Bellatrix!" Voldemort did not sound amused, and Bellatrix knew better than to mock him. She glanced down and carefully chose a landing point, a thick branch not far from the ground. She gingerly released her hands and crouched down onto the branch, then leaped down onto the patchy grass below. She could feel Voldemort's heart thudding in his chest, and she couldn't help but smirk a little and shrug.

"I'm good at climbing."

"I see that." Voldemort's throat bobbed, and he stared up at the tree as he said, "It's a thing children do, isn't it? Climbing trees? I saw other children doing it in parks sometimes when I was young."

"I suppose you sat morosely on the park bench, glaring at them." Bellatrix knew she was taking a risk in saying that, but Voldemort nodded, putting his hands on his hips and letting out a long breath.

"Where'd you learn to climb trees? Your grandmother's house, I suppose?"

"Yes. It made my parents and my grandmother very angry when I'd start climbing. They'd usually punish me afterward," Bellatrix noted rather sadly. She had a vivid memory of her mother slapping her clean across the cheek when she'd come down from the giant pine tree in her grandmother's gardens. Voldemort winced at the memory, cleared his throat, and joked rather anxiously,

"I don't suppose this creaky old body of mine would be much use climbing these days. Anyway, I've got lunch ready if you're hungry."

"I am, as it happens." Bellatrix rubbed her hands together to brush off the detritus of the tree, and she said, "One works up quite an appetite climbing."

Voldemort gave her a pleased little look. "Then climb away, little squirrel, and I'll stand below and catch you if you fall."

He reached for her hand, and the moment she took it, all discomfort and anguish from the night before dissolved into the air. All she felt was love for him, in all of love's forms. She feared and adored him as her master, as the Dark Lord. She admired his power and his authority. And she was in love with him as a man, as her husband, so deeply that it ached a little.

"I know exactly what you mean," he said with a nod, and he led her off to where he'd spread out a tartan wool blanket on the grass. Bellatrix grinned when she saw that he'd prepared plates of food for them already and covered them with protective bubbles he'd Conjured. He Vanished the bubble covers and handed Bellatrix a plate and a fork. She breathed in the scent of the sausage rolls, of the biting vinegar on the salad, and she hummed happily as she tucked in. She sipped the elderflower wine he gave her, and by the time he held up a plate of blueberry mousse tarts, she complained,

"Oh, I'm so full. Perhaps just one."

She felt his eyes studying her as she chewed the tart, and she knew he was relieved to see her eating. He'd been so frightened, she could feel now, during the times when she'd been almost starving.

"Not almost," he corrected her aloud. "You were starving, and I was terrified."

"Well," she said with her mouth full, swigging down some elderflower wine, "I'm not starving now, Master."

"Thank goodness." He popped a mousse tart into his own mouth and sipped from his wine. Bellatrix was drowsy from all the food, and on instinct, she lay down on her back on the blanket and shut her eyes.

"Thank you for lunch, My Lord. The sun feels so good," she murmured. Then, out of curiosity, she asked, "Will you please show me a memory?"

"A memory of what?"

"Anything," she replied, and suddenly she could feel embarrassment around the edges of his mind. He was thinking of something, unable to stop himself.

' _Travers and Rowle… I'm going to go ahead and place you in departments that…'_

 _Voldemort should have been listening to Rookwood as the Death Eater explained new Ministry plant placements, but he was distracted. Bellatrix Lestrange had worn a low-cut black silk blouse to the meeting today, and where she sat beside her husband, she looked radiant. She had shiny red lipstick on and was showing off the way her breasts gently swelled. A single teardrop black pearl hung from a silver chain around her neck, drawing Voldemort's eyes straight to her chest. He stared for a long moment until he realised she was staring back. He flicked his eyes up to hers, and she gave him a little smile that was at once shy and very knowing. She adjusted her blouse, pulling it up a little, and Voldemort's cheeks seared hot._

' _Will those placements suit you, My Lord?' he heard Rookwood ask, and he yanked his eyes away from Bellatrix, willing away the scarlet patches of heat on his face. He nodded._

' _That will be just fine, Rookwood.'_

Bellatrix smiled where she lay, her eyes still shut. She reached for Voldemort's hand and laced her fingers through his.

"I remember that very clearly," she said. "I dressed more modestly after that for meetings."

"That was… it was only a month or two before the Christmas party where…" Voldemort trailed off. He didn't need to finish. Bellatrix knew he'd had his eye on her long before he'd ever asked her to dance at that party. She squeezed his hand a little and mused,

"I wonder what things would have been like if you'd gotten to me before Rodolphus."

"That would have been impossible." Voldemort sounded as though he'd thought through this many times before. "You loved that boy by the time you were sixteen years old. It wasn't as though I could pursue you then, and by the time you were old enough for me to… you know, to do anything, it was too late."

Bellatrix shielded her eyes from the sun and turned her face to look at him. She felt sad all of a sudden, and she asked seriously,

"When did you first think like that… My Lord?"

He turned his eyes away from her and shook his head. "Don't."

"Was it when I was still sixteen?" Bellatrix pressed, and Voldemort shut his eyes.

"Don't."

He felt dirty enough as it was, she realised suddenly, without her doing this to him. He'd found her beautiful right on the cusp of it being objectively wrong to do so. He'd wanted her, craved her, when she'd been very young and very married. By the time he'd worked up the nerve to ask her for one dance, she'd turned twenty, but he'd wanted her before then.

"I'm sorry." Bellatrix brushed her thumb over his, and he frowned. _Sorry for what?_ he wondered in their minds. Bellatrix shut her eyes again and soaked up the sun on her face.

"I wish I'd known… if I'd known there was any chance of you actually wanting me for your own, I never, ever would have married him," she said. "I would have waited. I would have been chaste; I wouldn't have laid a finger on anyone else until I was old enough to -"

"Please stop." Voldemort's voice actually cracked a little then, and suddenly Bellatrix was inside another memory with him.

 _His fingers shook a little around the glass of lavender lemonade in his hand as he stood on the periphery of the party. It was late summer, and all the Hogwarts students in the Malfoy garden would be headed back to school in just a few days. Abraxas Malfoy had thrown this soiree to bid the students farewell, all the pureblood offspring of Voldemort's followers, the teenagers who would grow up to be his soldiers. So of course Voldemort had come._

 _He watched as Bellatrix Black walked hand-in-hand with Rodolphus Lestrange up to the pastry table. He remembered the winter before, when he'd teased her about dessert and she'd danced the line between polite deference and flirtation._

 _But there was no doubt about her now. She was his. She belonged to Rodolphus in her entirety. Voldemort watched as she smiled up at her little boyfriend, giggling a bit when he popped a small puff pastry between her lips. Voldemort's chest yanked. She'd be of age in less than a month. But she wasn't of age yet._

 _Something had been compelling him for a while now to ask Cygnus Black if he might propose a betrothal. He had no idea why he wanted to marry the man's eldest daughter. It was a stupid, ludicrous thought that usually came to him in dreams. Voldemort sipped his lemonade and shut his eyes, unable to watch as Rodolphus Lestrange kissed Bellatrix's forehead right there in front of everyone._

"Master, you weren't… you know, perverted or anything." Bellatrix sat up from the blanket and gave him a serious look. "Don't you remember the way our eyes locked at that Christmas party?"

"Yes, of course I remember," Voldemort hissed. Bellatrix crawled toward him, climbing into his lap and holding his face in her hands. He seemed surprised when she touched her lips to his, but she whispered,

"We're bound together now, just like we were always meant to be. You weren't wrong to want me. It was your soul craving mine, that's all."

"I never had fantasies; there was never anything explicit in my mind," Voldemort said defensively. "Not when you were too young. It wasn't like that. It was a hunger, but it wasn't predatory. I didn't… there's a reason I didn't approach your father or try and break you up with Rodolphus. I didn't want to be that sort of man, you understand?"

Suddenly she could feel the torment he'd experienced just after her wedding to Rodolphus. She felt the way he'd spent her entire wedding ceremony thinking of the little girl dancing on his feet, thinking how beautiful Bellatrix looked in her wedding gown, wishing he was in Rodolphus' place, and wondering just what was wrong with him.

"Nothing was wrong with you," Bellatrix said again. "I was born too late, that's all. It feels off because of the chasm of years between us, but you needed those years. You had to work at Borgin and Burke's, to travel the Continent, to build up your base on your own. I had to come later. You had to wait for me, that's all."

 _You're right_ , he thought, nodding. Bellatrix touched her forehead to his and murmured,

"It does feel wrong for me to want you today, though."

"I am not going to…" Voldemort glanced at the place on the blanket where Bellatrix had been lying in the sun. She was hit with an image from his mind then, of the two of them naked out here on the lawn, making love on the blanket. He huffed a breath and shook his head. "Your mother died last night. However you felt about her, I won't take you today."

"Well," Bellatrix stroked at the forearms she so admired, smiling a little at her lord and master and husband, "We have to stay in hiding for some time, don't we? And this place is warded up like Azkaban. I'm sure there will be plenty of time to have sex on this lawn."

Voldemort rolled his eyes and gave her a stifled sort of smirk.

"You really are awful, you know that?"

"Mmm-hmm." Bellatrix kissed him again, much more firmly this time, and his arms snaked up and around her, holding her very close as a bird chirped happily nearby.

 **Author's Note: I know there was no lemon in this chapter (it's coming soon, I promise!), but I really wanted to explore some of the dynamics of the age gap in a bit more depth, especially given that Voldemort has known Bellatrix since she was a child. I wanted to cement the idea that a) he was totally not a pedophile, b) they were completely intended for one another (Kindred) and c) Voldemort experienced conflicted feelings about Bellatrix for years. I know there's been a lot of fluff ever since Druella died, but in the next chapter, we've got a very telling copy of** _ **The Daily Prophet**_ **arriving by owl, along with a letter that Voldemort never wanted to receive. Told you the world would come crumbling down. ;) Thank you for reading. PLEASE do review if you get a very quick moment.**


	10. Chapter 10

Voldemort stared at the ceiling with his hands folded over his chest. As Bellatrix climbed into bed beside him, he rolled away from her a little, mumbling,

"Night, Bella."

He could feel her hesitation through their bond, and she murmured from behind him,

"You're troubled."

He just swallowed and stared into the dark bathroom. Bellatrix added worriedly,

"I can't feel what's wrong."

"No. I've got some shields up," he admitted, and Bellatrix touched at his shoulder.

"Have I angered you, Master?"

"No," he answered honestly. He shut his eyes and tried not to think of her dancing on his feet, of her ten-year-old face surrounded by a halo of wild black curls. He tried not to think of her scandalous dress when she'd been sixteen, of her wedding to Rodolphus. He tried not to think of any of that, of her life before she'd been his. He felt realisation come over her, and she whispered,

"I am almost twenty-two years old, My Lord."

"I know," he replied softly. Bellatrix squeezed at his shoulder a little and reminded him,

"I was a widow before I married you. I'd already been married once before. I am an experienced soldier; I've got loads of combat experience fighting for you. I've made a Horcrux. I am almost twenty-two. I'm not a little girl."

"I know that," he snapped, rolling his shoulder until her hand fell off. Bellatrix was hurt then. He could feel it in the way their shared breathing hitched and caught. She was on the verge of tears. But she sounded awfully brave as she said,

"I've been wondering something, My Lord. That spell that you used on me… _Interminagaudens_. Does it work in reverse? If a witch were to use it on a wizard…?"

He scoffed. "If you were to use it on me, you mean."

"Yes." She sounded uncertain then. Voldemort rolled slowly to face her, studying the sharp angles and soft curves of her in the dim light of a single wall sconce. He shrugged a bit.

"I found that spell in a filthy old tome a long time ago. I never used it until you. I suppose it must work both ways, though I've no idea what that looks or feels like."

"I think about it sometimes," Bellatrix said seriously. Voldemort felt a little twitch in his cock then, the spark of arousal despite his mental misgivings. He licked his bottom lip, determined to let her ease him back into the dynamic they'd settled into.

"What do you think about?" he asked, and she started to peel off her thin black nightgown. Voldemort watched in wonder as she tossed it aside, lay on her back, and started to glide her hands around herself. She squeezed at her breasts, slid her palms down over her flat stomach, and thought,

 _I think about you covering me in it. So much of it that it runs off my skin in streams onto the sheets. More of it than I can fathom. It is your essence, the very core of you, and I want it. So much of it… your come._

"Oh." Voldemort felt a pulsing rush between his legs then, and he pushed his pyjama trousers down under the blankets. He kicked them away and touched at his hardening cock as he leaned over to kiss Bellatrix gently.

"Please," she whispered onto his lips, "please come all over me. Please let me try the spell."

"All right." He felt helpless tonight, like he was drowning in her. Suddenly he thought of the first time he'd ever kissed her. He'd been drunk. It had been New Year's, and he'd gotten drunk after making Inferi. She'd come when he'd Summoned her like the good girl she was, still tipsy from the party she'd thrown with Rodolphus. Voldemort had made her dance with him, and then they'd kissed and she'd left in a hurry, for it had felt very wrong then for them to kiss.

It didn't feel wrong now.

 _Every single thing changed that night,_ he felt her think, and his heart sped up a little in his chest. He dragged his teeth over her lip, tugging on it a little, and asked her through their minds,

 _You want to be covered in it, do you?_

"Yes," she whispered aloud. "Yes, Master. Yes."

He could feel her thinking about the first time he'd entered her, in his office at Malfoy Manor, when she'd been utterly shocked by his size and completely overwhelmed by how good and right he felt invading her.

"Mmph." Voldemort rolled more to hover over Bellatrix, and he pulled back until he was kneeling above her. He took his cock in both hands as if he were aiming some sort of weapon, and he said in a shaking voice, "Go on, then. Get your wand."

Bellatrix smiled a little and nodded. She reached for her wand from the table beside her, aimed it at Voldemort, and wordlessly asked for permission. He smirked.

"I'm ready."

" _Interminagaudens,_ " Bellatrix incanted, and the spell socked Voldemort like a punch to his gut. Suddenly Bellatrix dropped her wand and gasped, and he could tell that she was feeling an onslaught of pleasure through the bond.

There was no build-up, no tightening before the snap. Everything just burst like a firework, his satisfaction sending his ears into a hot ring as though he'd taken Pepperup Potion. His vision blurred for a moment, and he almost lost his balance above Bellatrix. Then his seed started to pump out, creamy ropes of it bursting out in a throbbing volley. At first, it landed in long streams from Bellatrix's forehead down to her collarbone, from her nipples to her belly button. But the longer it went on, the more the streams turned into puddles, and then into a solid coating. Bellatrix was moaning, writhing, and Voldemort knew she'd climaxed right alongside him.

After what felt like an absolute eternity of physical bliss, he grew weary, like he'd run a great distance. Their breath was laboured; their hearts were racing. Their lungs were on fire and their stomachs clenching with the effort of it all. Still he came, more and more, until the room smelled so strongly of sex that Voldemort felt a little sick. He swallowed hard, shut his eyes, and thought,

 _So much. Too much. I'm dizzy. Bella, please; I'm dizzy._

" _F-Finite Incantatem_ ," he heard her whisper, and finally the sensation of the neverending orgasm dissolved, the heat and buzz letting up slowly. Voldemort grunted in shock as he studied Bellatrix's beautiful breasts and stomach, her lovely face, all utterly coated by his filth.

"Not filth," she corrected him aloud. She dragged her fingers from her neck down over her chest and stomach and then pushed her fingers against her clit, gasping softly. "Not filth. It's… oh."

Voldemort couldn't speak. His throat was dry and his body was completely sapped. He climbed off of Bellatrix, his legs quivering as he struggled to make his way beside her. He lay on his back and reached with trembling fingers for his wand. He nonverbally cleaned his own body up, Scouring and siphoning and freshening himself. Then he stared at Bellatrix, at the rise and fall of her chest, at the way her fingers played with the come on her stomach, and he groaned quietly. He finally aimed his wand at her and whispered,

" _Tergeo. Tergeo… Scourgify Duo. Fragrancirosa._ "

Soon enough, she lay quiet and still, clean and smelling of roses.

"Thank you, Master," she whispered, and Voldemort sighed as he set his wand down. He opened up his mind to her and let her relive a memory with him.

 _She'd just come back from an attack on Muggles, two days after her twentieth birthday. She stood beside Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange in Voldemort's office, panting with excitement, her brown eyes gleaming. She was euphoric as she said happily,_

' _I don't suppose I've ever had that much fun, My Lord.'_

 _Voldemort cocked an eyebrow and made a snide remark about her needing to get out more, but all he could really do was stare. He studied her form, carefully ensconced in battle attire. He eyed her mane of curls, and he thought suddenly that he'd known this was coming. Ever since she'd been a little girl lighting things on fire and stealing Champagne, she'd been preparing for this life. She'd told him years earlier that she wanted to serve him, that she wanted nothing else._

 _And she did look happy, and beautiful, and completely unattainable where she stood beside her husband. Voldemort cleared his throat roughly and praised the trio for their fine work before sending them away. Just before Rodolphus ushered Bellatrix out of the office, she glanced over her shoulder, smiling just a little. Her wide brown eyes glistened with delight, and Voldemort felt like he was going to buckle over at the waist. He just nodded at her, and then she was gone._

 _He sank down in his chair and touched at his forehead, thinking that Bellatrix made him feel things that he shouldn't, terrifying things that he'd never felt before._

"I loved you before I knew what it meant to love anyone," Voldemort said where he lay beside her. She moved to curl up against him, both of them naked and beyond sated, and she murmured,

"I was made just exactly for you, My Lord. You are the reason I am breathing. You are…"

 _Everything_ , her mind finished, or maybe his did. He finally shut his eyes and mumbled,

"Get some sleep, Bellatrix. Tomorrow morning, the _Daily Prophet_ will be here, and then I'll know just what sort of mess those goblins got us into. Goodnight."

 _Goodnight, My Lord,_ she thought at him.

 **Author's Note: Sorry for that interjection of lemon with minimal other plot! Ha! I have a very, very busy day on vacation tomorrow and even busier the next day, but I promise to upload a chapter ASAP. In the interim, your feedback is valued more than I can say. Thank you for reading.**


	11. Chapter 11

Bellatrix's eyes slowly opened, and she could see that it was bright and sunny outside. The bedroom window was open, the heavy curtains drawn back, and she smiled a little as she thought,

 _Where are you, Master?_

 _In the upstairs library working,_ came the immediate response. Bellatrix rolled onto her back for a moment, feeling happier than she'd done in a long while. She wasn't sure why. Probably because she was here in this house, married to the most powerful wizard who had ever lived, a man she loved ferociously.

Bellatrix finally yanked herself out of bed and straightened the sheets, pulling on a simple black sundress and cleaning her teeth. She slid on flat black shoes of lightweight leather, and she pulled her curls up into a pile atop her head. Voldemort liked them down, but it was hot today. She figured he'd understand.

She meandered out toward the library and found him at the desk there, scribbling away on a parchment. Bellatrix frowned and felt his thought about it being a letter to Yaxley. He'd already sent off a letter that was to be circulated between Rowle, Avery, Mulciber, Nott, and a few others. Malfoy already had a letter. Bellatrix gulped when she saw the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ on the corner of the desk. She picked it up and read in a low murmur,

" _ALBUS DUMBLEDORE: WIZARDING WORLD AT A CROSSROADS._ My Lord, I thought we had plants controlling the output of the newspaper."

"So did I," Voldemort snapped. He signed the letter with a flourish and rolled it up, walking over to the window and tying it to the leg of a waiting owl. He sniffed as he sat and started a new letter. This one he addressed to Augustus Rookwood. Bellatrix chewed her bottom lip and let him write as she silently read the front-page story.

 _Albus Dumbledore, headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry best known for defeating the Dark wizard Grindelwald, has a warning for wizarding Britain._

' _Our world has come to a fork in the path,' he said gravely during an interview. 'The population of goblins in Britain is being deliberately decimated. Meanwhile, students at Hogwarts will return in the autumn with great fear about their families and their own safety. It is time for us to decide what world we want for ourselves - one governed by goodness and light, or one that accepts the insidious aims of Lord Voldemort.'_

 _Minister Eugenia Jenkins and other Ministry officials echoed Dumbledore's sentiments. Speaking to the Prophet, Bartemius Crouch of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement said,_

' _Our Ministry will not allow genocidal actions against goblins, nor will we allow murders to go unprosecuted. The Ministry will work harder than ever to increase the rate of arrests and imprisonments of so-called Death Eaters. We will not stop until this movement is snuffed out.'_

Bellatrix set the newspaper down and asked,

"Shall I kill him? Barty Crouch?"

Voldemort didn't answer for a moment. He finally signed the letter, and as he stood to tie it to an owl, he said,

"I've already ordered a hit squad. Rowle, Avery, Mulciber, and Nott. They'll take Crouch out later today. Rookwood will be prepared to step into Crouch's position. Yaxley's going to take over your father's financial work for the time being, including a complete restructure at Gringotts. And Malfoy's going to host any Death Eater who wants to be sheltered in what is probably the most warded building in Britain."

Bellatrix blinked and shifted on her feet.

"And what about us, Master?"

"You and I," he said cautiously, "are going to attack a few Aurors in a week or so. Moody, yes, and some others. But… erm… I received a letter early this morning from Lucius Malfoy. I… I destroyed it."

Bellatrix was confused, but Voldemort walked slowly toward her. He looked tired as he said,

"Your father and sister knew. I've no idea why they didn't tell you. Lucius thinks… he thinks your mother intended on telling you soon, but she didn't get the chance. I knew I sensed something when he buried her, but I thought perhaps I was just thrown off from battle. Your father didn't… he said nothing about it at the time. I've written to him to ask for some clarification."

"What's going on?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort cleared his throat softly.

"Your mother was pregnant when she died, Bellatrix. Pregnant with twin boys, according to a recent visit to the Healer."

"What?" Bellatrix felt weak all of a sudden, and Voldemort swept an arm behind her. He shook his head a little and shrugged.

"I didn't know," he whispered. "I'd sensed… heartbeats, but… it seemed silly. I don't know. I'm sorry. I ought to have had a better hold on…"

He trailed off then, and Bellatrix just shook her head.

"She was too old," she said numbly, but Voldemort scoffed a little.

"She was very young when you were born. She wasn't yet forty when she died. Witches have babies in their late thirties all the time, or even older than that."

"Twins." Bellatrix tried to imagine Druella cradling twins, but the image quickly shifted to Druella and Narcissa, each with a baby in their arms as they sang in gentle harmony in a sunny nursery. Bellatrix's eyes burned badly, and she suddenly reached into her pocket and pulled out her wand.

"Will you excuse me?" she asked, and she didn't wait for an answer. He didn't seem one bit surprised as she pulled herself from his arms and made her way out into the corridor and down the stairs. She marched right out the front door before Coopy could hurry and open it for her. She stomped across the lawn, which was getting brown and crispy from the dry, hot weather. She stood in front of an apple tree that grew at the top of one of the gently swelling hills on the lawn, and she aimed her wand at it.

" _Incendio_ ," she said firmly. Fire was Conjured at the base of the trunk, the flames licking up along the bark. Bellatrix aimed her wand at a few places in the leafy branches and barked, " _Incendio! Incendio!_ "

She felt Voldemort behind her, but she didn't turn round. She watched the apple tree burn, and she asked him in their minds,

 _How far advanced was the pregnancy?_

 _Four months, according to Narcissa,_ he replied. Bellatrix swallowed through the knot in her throat, suddenly thinking of a time when she'd lit the wispy white kitchen curtains on fire because her mother wouldn't let her have a chocolate biscuit. It had been wandless magic. Bellatrix had been six. She'd been whipped mercilessly for that.

"Set anything you want on fire," said a voice from behind her. She flicked her eyes to the massive oak tree, and Voldemort added hesitantly, "Just leave a tree or two on the property, will you?"

"I just want to climb, Master." Bellatrix shoved her wand at him, and he frowned in confusion. She took off at a full run toward the oak tree, her shoes padding oddly on the ground. She kicked them off as she ran, then continued barefoot in her lightweight sundress, a few tendrils of her hair falling from her bun. When Bellatrix reached the tree, she reached up quickly for the lowest thick branch, swinging her legs to get momentum. She finally heaved herself up onto it, then scrambled up the trunk. She stuck out a leg and got a hold, walking carefully along the length of the branch until she could scramble up again. Higher and higher she climbed, until finally she reached the last supportive branch, a good forty feet from the ground. She sat down, breathless and crying, and shut her eyes.

She listened to the apple tree crackling far away where it burns. She listened the oak leaves rustling around her, glad for the shelter from the blazing sun, and she leaned her head against the trunk. She smelled the burning apple tree, relishing the aroma. Then she felt Voldemort's thoughts from down below.

 _Mind if I join you?_

"I don't mind," she whispered, but she knew he'd feel her thoughts. She kept her eyes shut then, even as she heard Voldemort fly up through the tree, even as he sat on the thick branch below her. She kept her head tipped against the bark, letting the tears flow silently down her cheeks. Voldemort said nothing at all. She could feel that he was sorry, very sorry, and she insisted quietly,

"I'm fine. I'll be fine. I don't know why I'm upset."

"Because you lost brothers you didn't even know you were meant to have," Voldemort said simply, "along with your mother, whatever she was to you."

Bellatrix opened her eyes, took a shaking breath, and decided to steady herself. She pulled herself up to stand, walking a few inches out onto the branch. She felt unease from Voldemort, and when Bellatrix wobbled a little, he sat up straight below her and snapped,

"Bella."

"I'm fine… My Lord." She plucked three oak leaves from a twig above her sweaty face. She stared at the green leaves and then dropped them, one by one, watching them flutter down to the ground. Her mother and two babies. Gone. They were gone. They'd never come back.

"What was it you said once, Master? You always look forward. Regret holds you back. Grief does, too, I reckon."

"Bellatrix…" He sounded sorrowful then, but Bellatrix shook her head and held onto the branch above her as she stared at him over her shoulder. She said quite firmly,

"We're going to kill some Aurors in a few days."

His face shifted a little, and he nodded. "Yes. We are."

Bellatrix smirked a little. "Good. I look forward to it. Now… will you fly us back down?"

 **Author's Note: I *promise* we'll see some real live battle action in the next chapter. Thank you so much for your patience while I'm on vacation. Your readership and feedback are immensely appreciated.**


	12. Chapter 12

"Well, it's certainly a bit of a hike to his house," Bellatrix said breathlessly. Voldemort glanced down and back a little to where Bellatrix was working her way up the craggy hillside. Moody had a cottage hidden in the depths of the Scottish Highlands, a solid four hours' hike out of Hogsmeade. He was close enough to Hogwarts to be at Dumbledore's beck and call, but far enough away that he thought he was hidden.

He wasn't. Rookwood had tracked Moody to this location. The only problem was that Moody had powerful wards around the place, and so they had to approach it in a straight hike from Hogsmeade. Voldemort pulled out his metal flask of water and passed it to Bellatrix. She caught up to him, unscrewed the lid, and sipped.

Gone was the warm sunny weather from the last week at home. It was dark, though it was only mid-afternoon, and everything had a dreary grey-blue pall cast upon it. A mist whipped their faces in the rough wind.

"Let's keep moving, Master," Bellatrix suggested, passing the flask back. "I don't want him to sense us."

"We're nearly there. It's just over the ridge," Voldemort told her. They walked side by side up the rocky hill and came to the top, where they stared down upon a cosy-looking whitewashed cottage. Its roof was in need of new thatching, and the windows looked dirty, but it seemed warm. Friendly fiddle music was emanating from the place, Voldemort could hear. He could also feel the wall of more stout wards now. They'd long since passed through Moody's weaker defences, but these would challenge even Voldemort. He cleared his throat and thought,

 _Destructo Protegum. Say it with me. Three, two, one…_

" _Destructo Protegum!_ " Bellatrix and Voldemort said the spell together, and bright white bolts shot out of their wands and hit and invisible boundary. The spell fizzled and seemed to dissolve some of the protections.

"Remember. You get Moody; I'll get anyone else inside. Ready? Again. _Destructo Protegum!"_ Voldemort was shoved back a little on the rocky grass by the force of his own spell. The white light smacked into the ward, and he could tell there was enough opening for them to pass through. He snatched Bellatrix's wrist and said firmly, "Now. Let's go. Move quickly."

She ran to keep up with him, their wands extended as they approached the cottage. Suddenly the little wooden front door slammed open, and Alastor Moody and two others appeared. Voldemort watched as Bellatrix immediately began duelling Moody. He focused on the others - two ginger brothers. The Prewetts, he realised at once. Gideon and Fabian. There was a goblin, too, that came piddling out, looking so ancient he might have keeled over before Voldemort could get to him.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " shouted Voldemort. His jade green Killing Curse smacked into the goblin, but Voldemort had no time to study the body. It had begun to pour rain, and he shivered as he blocked spell after spell from the Prewett brothers.

" _Stupefy,"_ Fabian Prewett tried, but in one clean sweep of his arm, Voldemort blocked the spell and snarled back,

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

"Oh, no, you little bitch get back here! _Stupefy!_ " Moody's voice was a growl in the strengthening storm, but Bellatrix whipped a Killing Curse at him, her own cry piercing the rain. Moody Disapparated and came to up the hill, and Bellatrix immediately whirled toward him.

" _Stupe-_ "

"No!" Voldemort scowled and turned to face the remaining Prewett brother, Silencing him nonverbally. Then he called, " _Avada Kedavra!_ " and watched as Gideon Prewett fell over in death, falling onto the body of his brother Fabian.

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!_ " Bellatrix's voice shrieked, and Voldemort turned to see a ferocious blast of green shoot from her wand and hit Moody straight in the chest. He was hurtled back against the trunk of a tree and then slumped over inelegantly. He had an eye patch on, Voldemort could see, from when he'd Splinched his eyeball escaping Bellatrix's torture. Now she cackled like a madwoman and pulled a little glass jar with preserving liquid from her leather rucksack. She aimed her wand at Moody and said gleefully,

" _Accio_ Eyeball!"

Voldemort could help but smirk as she caught Moody's remaining eyeball, unscrewed the jar in her hands, and popped the eyeball inside. He aimed his wand at the cottage and murmured,

" _Homenum Revelio._ "

Nothing. It had just been Moody and the Prewetts, along with the goblin. Voldemort looked around the grass, at the way Moody lay with both his eyes gone, unmoving in death inflicted by Bellatrix. He looked at the way the Prewetts were stacked on each other, the way the ancient goblin had fallen against the doorjamb where the door swung slowly.

"Bella!" Voldemort called, and she came trotting over with a grin on her face. She aimed her wand at the sky, but Voldemort thought,

 _Not yet. They'll see the Mark from Hogsmeade, from Hogwarts. I need a few minutes first._

"For what?" she shouted over the rain, and he grabbed her by the waist and wrenched her down. She squealed with shock as he shoved her against the muddy ground, but then she giggled, looking at their victims and then the slop around them and up to Voldemort.

 _Do it,_ she thought. She didn't need to ask twice. Voldemort put his hand on her leggings and knickers and nonverbally incanted,

 _Evanesco._

Her long tunic and boots remained on, but it wouldn't matter. They would Apparate straight home from here. Bellatrix seemed to be thinking along the same lines, for she wrenched off her tunic and lay it beside her.

 _Hands and knees,_ Voldemort barked in their minds, and Bellatrix obeyed at once. He worked quickly with the placket of the trousers he wore beneath his robes. He could feel energy and excitement throbbing off of Bellatrix. It only riled him up, especially when he looked around at the destruction they'd wrought. Voldemort pressed his tip against Bellatrix's entrance, staring at the bodies of the Prewett brothers as he did. She was looking at Moody, he knew. He pushed in a bit, and Bellatrix thought at him,

 _Split me apart, Master._

"Oh… bloody hell." He shut his eyes and let the rain soak them both as he started to drill her, his knees sliding on the mud as he did.

She came so quickly that he would have been convinced she was faking it. If he hadn't been able to distinctly feel her own pleasure and thrill, he would have thought she was lying with the dramatic orgasm. But she wasn't exaggerating at all. Her body was clenching where she knelt in the freezing mud, laughing wickedly as pleasure washed through her veins.

 _I am happier now than I have ever been in my life,_ she thought distantly as Voldemort thought of the little girl who had set things on fire, the Hogwarts student who had pledged herself to him, the ferocious Death Eater who had been Rodolphus Lestrange's wife. Then he looked at the goblin and the Prewetts and Alastor Moody, and he quickened his hips as much as he could in the slippery mud. He squeezed at Bellatrix's little waist and thought,

 _You are everything, Bellatrix._

He spilled himself inside of her, his cock leaping as he shut his eyes and tipped his head back into the rain. He smiled as his climax faded, as the cold air whipped around him, and he finally slid out of her body. He stood, helped her up, and they both laughed at the sight of him, dripping in mud, and her, naked except for boots and looking like she'd taken a bath in the mud. She snatched her tunic and her leather rucksack and her wand, and Voldemort aimed his own wand at the stormy sky, said in a low, sibilant hiss,

" _Morsmordre._ "

He took Bellatrix's hand in his, took one last look around, and instructed her,

"No Splinching this time. Master's Manor - straight to the bathroom upstairs."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix grinned, her wet curls falling in front of her eyes. Voldemort squeezed her hand and thought,

 _I look forward to scrubbing all that mud off of your body before taking you again… murderous little creature._

Then he Disapparated, taking Bellatrix with him, and came to dripping mud inside the bathroom of the house where he'd killed his father.

 **Author's Note: Whew! That was intense. Again, I'm sorry for the short chapters while I'm on vacation. I can see that 200 people are reading every chapter, but I'm getting usually one to three reviews total. I don't mind except that I would really love to hear from readers who have made it this far into this series. Please let me know what you're enjoying, what you'd like to see more or less of, etc. I value your feedback. Thanks so much for reading!**


	13. Chapter 13

"Settle down."

"I can't, Master." Bellatrix trembled where she stood in the shower, now fully cleaned of the mud and grass she'd gained in Scotland. She leaned her head against Voldemort's chest and felt his breath in her lungs as she laughed and said in a low but energetic murmur,

"They're dead. They're fucking dead, and it feels so good."

"Bella, your heart is going so fast that my own is going to burst out of my chest. Or I'll just have a heart attack for the both of us," Voldemort huffed. She suddenly felt his Occlumency shields go up between them, and she scowled up at him.

"I'm just happy!"

"I know. I know." He pulled her against his chest again and kissed her wet curls. "I'm proud of you. But you have to settle down. I've been down this path before; I know why you're feeling what you are. How about some Draught of Peace?"

"I'm tired of taking that," Bellatrix snapped rather disrespectfully. She shut the water off and dashed from the shower out into the bedroom, feeling completely high after the slaughter in Scotland. She leaped up onto the bed and swung part of the way around one of the thick bedposts, laughing again.

" _Sicco Duo,_ " incanted Voldemort patiently from where he stood wrapping a towel around his waist. Bellatrix felt her hair dry and frizz, her skin go warm and soft, and she mumbled,

"Oh, thank you, Master. Mmm. I want you again."

"You need to calm down, Bellatrix. Your Dark magic is running away from you." Voldemort said it calmly, as though he really had experienced this before. He aimed his wand toward the corridor and said firmly, " _Accio_ Draught of Peace."

"I'm too excited for that!" Bellatrix giggled, flopping down naked onto the bed. As Voldemort caught the little bottle of potion in his hand, he said sternly,

"It's not optional. Dumbledore will have found them by now. We need to be on guard, and you're not in control of yourself."

"I'm fine! I promise. I'm fine." Bellatrix sat up onto her knees and crawled toward the edge of the bed, but Voldemort cracked her mouth open with one hand and poured potion in with the other.

"Swallow," he ordered her, and Bellatrix obeyed. She buzzed with energy as she lay down beneath the sheets and put her head onto the pillow. She scratched at the fabric a little, and she frowned as Voldemort dressed himself fully into black flannel pyjama trousers and a shirt. He brought over black knickers and a long, flowing black nightgown to Bellatrix, and he instructed her,

"Put this on. If someone were to come, we need pyjamas on, at the very least."

Bellatrix blinked quickly as she pulled on the nightgown and knickers and then arranged herself beneath the blankets again. Voldemort joined her, pulled her quickly against his chest, and ordered her,

"Close your eyes and listen to me."

"All right." Bellatrix realised she would have immediately said _Yes, Master,_ once upon a time. But she'd grown so familiar. Too familiar, perhaps. The Draught of Peace was settling into her veins now as Voldemort said in a quiet, comforting sort of tone,

"You served me so well tonight, Bellatrix. You duelled one of the most skilled and feared Aurors that has ever existed, and you defeated him. You took his other eyeball as a prize, as a trophy for what you did. I drilled you into the mud there, in the rain, with the bodies around us, and I am proud of you. Do you understand me?"

"I understand, My Lord," Bellatrix whispered. Or perhaps she thought it. She couldn't tell. She shut her eyes and thought, _Show me another time you were proud of me._

He didn't respond for a long moment, and finally he whispered,

"It's a difficult memory, the one I've got in mind."

"Why?" Bellatrix demanded, feeling a bit surly. She felt Voldemort's throat bob, and he answered,

"Because I wasn't just proud of you. I was jealous, too."

Suddenly Bellatrix was lost in his mind, feeling his memory right alongside him.

 _She should be back any moment now. He'd sent Bellatrix off to fetch him Manna Holden with explicit instructions that the witch be fit for interrogation. Bellatrix had proven herself in combat time and time again, but Voldemort wanted to see what she could do all on her own, with no help at all._

 _Bellatrix came walking slowly into the meeting room, dragging an Immobilised and Silenced Manna Holden through the air. Bellatrix beamed and started to set Manna Holden on the ground before Voldemort._

' _Well done, Bellatrix,' he said. When she smiled up at him, he felt a wretched pull in his chest._

 _He should have asked her father for permission to court her without anything explicit, well before Rodolphus Lestrange could completely capture her. No, that wouldn't have worked. Rodolphus had burrowed his way into Bellatrix's affections long before Voldemort would have had a chance. Voldemort cast a few spells on Manna Holden, taking control of her, and he said softly, 'You may go.'_

' _Thank you, My Lord.' Bellatrix bowed her head and turned to step away. She started toward the door, and her name ripped itself from Voldemort's lips._

' _Bellatrix.'_

 _She whirled around and he studied her - her wild curls, her tight chest and waist, her narrow hips, her short little frame. His eyes landed square on hers, wide and brown, and he gulped hard. He wanted her. He'd never really, genuinely wanted her body, not to the point where he felt things come alive inside of him. It was an awful sensation. But he was also more proud of her than he'd ever been, for she'd done remarkably well with Manna Holden. So he nodded crisply and said,_

' _Fine work today. Dismissed.'_

Bellatrix's eyelids were heavy and she felt drunk as she sat up slowly.

"You wanted me before then," she argued, but Voldemort shook his head where he lay on the pillow.

"Not like that," he said. "I was overwhelmed, I think. You looked so pretty, and you'd done a very, very good job for me. I… I'd never felt that sort of lust, that sort of craving. I danced with you days later. It was too late for me by then. I'd lost myself in you, and it was irreversible. Somehow, that day when you brought Manna Holden to me, I could feel something break. That's why I danced with you at the Christmas party, and… and I was indeed very proud of you, Bella."

"Making you proud is the greatest accomplishment I could ever hope to achieve, Master," Bellatrix said, feeling peace wash over her. Something compelled her to drag her fingertips over Voldemort's hair, and she noted rather bluntly, "It's getting thinner. More grey."

"I'd noticed, thanks." He frowned and pulled her hand away from his hair. "What do you expect? I'm forty-six years old. Men who are old like me have wrinkles and grey hairs. Young witches like you have perky breasts and tiny waists and smooth skin."

"I wonder if the older witches are jealous," Bellatrix mused with a quiet laugh. "I wonder if they're jealous that your wife is so much younger."

"I'm sure they would all be very jealous if they knew about their husbands running off to sex parties with witches your age," Voldemort said bitingly, and Bellatrix shrugged, unable to feel stressed whilst under the influence of Draught of Peace.

"Well," she noted, "Cato Burke is dead. Oh, and Gideon and Fabian Prewett! And more than half the goblins. And Alastor Moody. Hmmm!"

She lay back down beside Voldemort and felt him pet her hair again. She shut her eyes and let him feel how badly he wanted her.

"I'm drained, Bella," he murmured softly against her ear. "The battle in Scotland, taking you there… it's late. I want to sleep. Let's dream together."

"What should we dream about, Master?" Bellatrix could feel him willing her to sleep, and she wondered if she'd been Confounded. She was almost unconscious when she felt an idea come into her head. Then she realised he was planting a dream there, and she smiled.

 _Bellatrix was dashing through a field at sunset, shouting over her shoulder,_

' _Catch me, My Lord!'_

 _He just shook his head and smiled in the dying light of the day, walking calmly. Bellatrix turned back toward him and ran, faster and faster until he caught her up in his arms and staggered backward a few steps, laughing against her mouth as he kissed her._

' _You are everything, Bellatrix,' he said after a while. 'Without you, there would be nothing else. And I'm always proud of you.'_

' _Even when we're making love in the mud with bodies around us?' Bellatrix smirked, kissing him again. 'Are you proud then?'_

' _Then most of all,' Voldemort replied, drawing Bellatrix's face up to his and kissing her properly, his tongue exploring her mouth. He snaked his fingers through hers and took her hand firmly, leading her back up toward the cottage near the sea._

"Goodnight, Bella," she heard him say in their bedroom, but she was too far gone to answer. She just let him cover her hand with his, and she fell asleep, overcome with satisfaction in ways she never could have imagined.

 **Author's Note: Sorry for this sedate fluff-fest… we needed it after the intensity of the last chapter, no? I promise we'll keep the plot moving in the next chapter. Thank you for reading and for all feedback. My vacation is almost over! Eek!**


	14. Chapter 14

" _RENOWNED AURORS DISCOVERED DEAD IN SCOTLAND._ Well. We certainly managed to get their attention." Voldemort smirked as he set down his copy of the _Daily Prophet_. He looked around the table in the dining room at Malfoy Manor; he'd gathered Rookwood, Yaxley, and Malfoy for a small meeting. No large gatherings were to be held, he'd decreed. Not just yet. Rookwood smiled a bit and said,

"My Lord, there was abject panic this morning at the Ministry. I can safely say that the prevailing attitude seems to be that opposing you now is suicide. Talk is not only about right and wrong, about loyalty, but about self-preservation. Most seem to realise what's coming, and they want a place in the Ministry of the future."

"I've heard similarly whilst interviewing candidates to work at Gringotts, Master," Yaxley added. "Most people seem to have come round to the idea that your way is the future. Many are saying that Dumbledore's batty, that he wants another Grindelwald to duel."

"I'm glad to hear all of this," Voldemort said sincerely, "but complacency is dangerous. We'll continue restructuring Gringotts. We'll turn the Ministry more day by day until we can take out Jenkins and replace her, or eliminate the post entirely. Rookwood, Yaxley, keep in close touch."

"Of course, Master." Rookwood bowed his head, and Voldemort flicked his hand to dismiss him and Yaxley. As they left the meeting room, Voldemort felt a pinch inside his bond with Bellatrix. She was up to something, but she didn't want him to see. He frowned a little and turned his attention to Malfoy.

"I've reopened my Floo connection in my office," he said once they were alone.

"I'll ensure the wards around your office are reinforced daily, Master," Malfoy said. Voldemort drummed his fingers on the dining room table, considering that he and Abraxas Malfoy had known one another for thirty-five years now. He cleared his throat and asked carefully,

"How's my little sister-in-law doing?"

Malfoy's face faltered for a moment. He flicked his eyes toward a corner of the room, blinking a few times.

"Narcissa has been… well… if I'm honest, Master, she's been inconsolable. We've had Cygnus over a few times, and of course the Dark Lady is always welcome."

"Unless Narcissa needs her, I do not think it healthy or wise for Bellatrix to dwell on Druella's death," Voldemort said firmly, and Malfoy nodded.

"Narcissa and Lucius are just now registering that their wedding will always be associated with the murder of Narcissa's mother… and the babies. But, of course, Master, they are both ardently devoted to your service."

"I know they are. So is Cygnus. I can feel it." Voldemort folded his arms over his chest and said, "See to it that Narcissa is well cared for by your son. She needs a good solid husband in him now, not the boy who ran off to parties to fuck Edwina Fawley."

Malfoy's cheeks pinked a little and he nodded. "I think, Master, that Lucius has grown up quite a lot since all of that."

"And you?" Voldemort asked with a bite in his tone. "Have you grown up, Abraxas? How are things with Cerda?"

"I've learnt to do much better, My Lord," Malfoy assured him. "To be better with her. Cerda is, I think, with Narcissa as we speak. They spend a good deal of time reading and drinking tea. Walking in the gardens. Just… trying to make it one breath at a time."

"Good." Voldemort gave Malfoy a heavy look. "I can't have the death of Druella Black unravel what I've built. I need you, Cerda, Lucius, Narcissa, Cygnus, and, yes, Bellatrix to quickly move on from what happened at the wedding. We've a war to win."

"And we are your willing soldiers, Master," Malfoy confirmed. He picked up the newspaper and read from the article, " _Feared and respected Auror Alastor Moody had previously lost an eye, which was Splinched during combat. His body was found with the other eye missing. Albus Dumbledore asserts that the loss of both eyes, along with the loss of Moody's life, was the work of one Bellatrix Black. Dumbledore claims that Bellatrix Black was torturing Moody with the Cruciatus Curse when he Splinched his eye during Side-Along Apparition, and that she took the other eyeball in Scotland as a trophy. If the rumours are true, young Ms Black is the wife of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and it may be that she accompanied him to assassinate the Aurors and their goblin friend._ "

Malfoy folded the newspaper, set it down, and smiled a little as he sighed.

"May I speak rather plainly, Master?" he asked, and Voldemort nodded once. Malfoy licked his bottom lip and hesitated before he said, "I think every single one of us who knew Tom Riddle in school… we all knew that boy would grow into a great wizard. I do not suppose any of us knew _how_ great, how fearsome, how powerful. And for many years, I confess, we underestimated you. But may I confess something else?"

"Might as well, whilst you're at it," Voldemort said, and Malfoy scratched at his silver blond hair a little.

"On the day that Bellatrix Black married Rodolphus Lestrange, I told Cerda that it was all wrong. The girl should have waited, I said. Cerda was confused. _Wait for whom?_ "

"You thought then that she should have married me?" Voldemort asked with a little smile of disbelief, and Malfoy shrugged helplessly.

"She seemed even then like the only witch with sufficient bloodlust and intelligence, courage and… and beauty. She seemed like the only one who could ever be a lady on your arm. But she married the Lestrange boy, and I think we all reckoned you would just rule alone, Master."

"Well," Voldemort swallowed hard and reminded Malfoy, "Rodolphus Lestrange died a hero."

"So he did." Malfoy gave Voldemort a very knowing look, and he said, "Once everything is yours, My Lord, she will make a fine consort. Of noble blood, notoriously fierce in battle… and, if I may say, she seems to please you."

"She does," Voldemort said simply. This conversation felt oddly personal, as though he and Abraxas were friends, though of course Lord Voldemort had no friends. They'd resembled friends once upon a time, when Abraxas Malfoy had come back from Quidditch practice into the Slytherin Common Room, drenched in sweat, with Tom Riddle scratching away on a parchment at a table and teasing Malfoy about not stinking up the shower in the dormitory.

That had been a different life.

But Voldemort gave Malfoy a pleasant look and nodded as he said,

"Thank you, Malfoy. For hosting the headquarters here. My office. For looking after Narcissa."

"All of it is my honour, My Lord," Abraxas said. Voldemort rose, and Malfoy flew to his feet. Voldemort gave a curt nod and left the dining room, walking down the corridor toward his office. The thick wards admitted him, and when he stepped into his fireplace with a fistful of Floo Powder, he barked,

"The Master's Manor!"

He went up in green flames then, whirling for a moment in darkness before coming to in the fireplace of the upstairs library. He cast a few quick Scouring spells upon himself to clean off the soot and dust, and he realised he still couldn't feel his wife.

"Bella? Bellatrix!" He walked quickly out of the upstairs library and down the long corridor along the stairwell.

"I'm in the bedroom, My Lord," he heard her call, and finally he felt her shielding go down. He scowled as he came into the bedroom, and then he froze.

"Wh-what are you wearing?" Voldemort asked, his jaw going slack. Bellatrix stalked toward him and murmured,

"A corset."

"Yes, I see that." He gulped, looking her up and down. She'd used Sleekeazy's on her curls, he could see, though they still fell wildly around her face. She had on a black silk corset, tightly bound up so that her waist was almost impossibly small and her bust was shaped beautifully. She had on tiny lace knickers, black lace stockings with garters that connected to the corset, and shiny black high heels. She wore the emerald pendant that he'd given her when she'd still been forbidden.

"Bella." He felt a rush go through him, heady and strong. He was dizzy; he was unsteady. He reached for the doorjamb and leaned on it a little. Bellatrix blinked very slowly and tipped her head.

"I was hoping… you know, since my old photographer's gone… that perhaps you might take a few photos yourself."

"What?" Voldemort's throat went dry. She was pretty. So pretty. No. She was damned _sexy_ , this witch before him, this young and beautiful woman who had, for some reason, let him lead her old husband to death and had made a Horcrux and had bound her soul to Voldemort's. She was so sexy, and he wanted her _now_.

"Patience," she whispered, and he shook his head, approaching her. He meant to Vanish those little knickers off of her, but she quickly picked something up off the bed and shoved it into Voldemort's hands. He frowned when he looked down at it, seeing that it was a relatively compact camera, similar to the 35 millimetre cameras Muggles were using in the 1940s. His lips parted a little, and Bellatrix said in a confident voice, "That was my mother's camera. I wrote to my father yesterday and he sent it over this morning, along with Developing Potion. I didn't tell him what it was for."

"Bellatrix…" Voldemort gulped and manipulated the camera a little. "I don't really know how to take photographs."

"I'll pose," she said, "and you just look through that little square there… and then click here."

He smiled a little as she guided his hands around. He scoffed and informed her,

"I know how to work a camera, at the very least. I grew up with Muggles, and they had cameras. But their pictures don't move."

"These will," Bellatrix said seriously. She stalked in her high heels over to the window, leaning on the sill and stepping back a little. She angled forward and tipped her hips back. Suddenly her backside looked absolutely delectable. Suddenly her thin arms were hit just right by the sunshine and shadow. Her little waist curved into her hips just right. Voldemort's hands shook like mad as he raised the camera up to his eye, and Bellatrix thought toward him,

 _Just breathe._

 _I'm hard as a rock and you want me to just breathe?_

She smiled at that, and he pressed the shutter button. She turned her face at the sound, giving him a playful look, and he clicked again. Then Bellatrix moved to a damask velvet chair and sat, spreading her legs in a way that was somehow elegant and yet profoundly erotic. She lifted her right hand up and played with her curls, using her left fingers to caress the firm mounds of her breasts where they were framed by the corset.

"Oh." Voldemort brought the camera up to his eye again and clicked quickly, his breath shaking in his nostrils. He lowered the camera and stared as he murmured, "I don't know how the photos are going to turn out, so I'm going to ogle you a bit."

"How were your meetings?" Bellatrix asked, rising from the chair and moving to kneel in front of Voldemort. He sucked in breath hard and stared down at her, at her pretty, bare face, at the way the corset turned her body into an hourglass. He struggled not to drop the camera as her fingers reached into his robes.

"Meetings went well," he croaked out. "Your sister's… you should write to her again."

"I will," Bellatrix nodded. She seemed focused on her task as she began to unbutton Voldemort's trousers. She raised her eyes to him and asked, "Are you pleased with the response from the _Daily Prophet?_ "

"Yes… oh. Bloody hell, Bella." Voldemort tipped his head back as she used both hands to pull out his cock. He seethed through clenched teeth and thought, _They mentioned you, that you'd been the one to kill Moody._

 _I've got the only proof in a jar in the library,_ Bellatrix thought back, and Voldemort almost came then and there. Instead he aimed the camera down, and Bellatrix laughed. She kissed the tip of his cock and looked up at him, and Voldemort took a picture. He gasped when she opened her mouth wide and took him in, her lips sliding over the sensitive tip and down onto his shaft. He could see the ties on the back of her corset now, but her face was obscured by the waterfall of her curls. Voldemort took one more picture, this one probably the most obscene of all. He tossed the camera down onto the bed and murmured,

"You don't have to -"

 _I want to_ , Bellatrix thought, raising her eyes to him again. Voldemort whimpered, knowing he sounded weak and not caring.

"If you keep looking at me when you're this insanely beautiful, I am going to come in… _Bellatrix._ "

She'd figured out a way to work her tongue along the bottom of his cock, even with her mouth stuffed full of him. She moaned rather loudly, her eyelashes fluttering. She touched the swell of her breasts with her hand again, and as her tongue slid around inside her mouth, Voldemort was completely overwhelmed.

 _Gaudens Maxima_ , he incanted nonverbally, inflicting an orgasm on Bellatrix at once. He felt her instantaneous pleasure, the way she'd gone hot and throbbing from it, and he groaned as everything snapped within him. She pulled back and used both her hands to aim his cock. She was still coming a little, he could tell, but she had the presence of mind to aim him. He let out a guttural, feral sort of noise as his come leaped out all over Bellatrix's sculpted bust, leaking down onto her black silk corset.

For a long moment as he started to go soft, Voldemort just stared in silence. Abraxas Malfoy had been right. She was made for him, just exactly for him. He was overwhelmed by her, not only by the way she looked covered in his seed in a tiny-waisted corset, but by the very core of her being. The deliciously vicious nature of her, the bloodlust, the intellect, the flirtation even after they'd married. She was so beautiful from the inside out.

He dragged the pad of his thumb along the place where the corset met her skin, where a stream of his come had landed. He shut his eyes and pulled out his wand as Bellatrix tucked his cock away and buttoned him up. He aimed his wand at her and reluctantly said,

" _Tergeo… Scourgify…_ "

He helped her stand, and when she smiled up at him, he asked,

"Why the special event?"

"I just… thought it felt right, Master," Bellatrix said. He nodded. She always seemed to know what felt right. He glanced at the camera and admitted,

"I'm no photographer. I don't know what sort of photos we'll get from that."

"Hopefully at least one of me with your cock in my mouth," Bellatrix replied, grinning. "I'll develop them once the sun goes down."

"Bellatrix…" Voldemort showed her his memory of the meeting with Malfoy, where Malfoy had said that Bellatrix would always make a fine consort, that she seemed to please Voldemort.

"Did he really tell his wife that he thought I should be with you instead of Rodolphus?" Bellatrix seemed sceptical, but Voldemort shrugged.

"I've no idea, but I didn't sense a lie. Does it matter? You're feared. You're adored."

"Not like you," she insisted, and he took her face in his hands as he told her,

"I waited twenty-five years for you to be born. I waited forty-five years to make you mine for good. And you were right. I had to wait, to spend that time preparing… preparing for this, here, now. This climb, this ascent into glory. And you're not behind me on the ladder, Bella. You… you're beside me."

Her eyes went wet, and her chest heaved in her tight corset. She put her hands to his chest and whispered,

"I love you so, so much."

"I know you do," he nodded, "and in return, I've utterly lost myself to you. To how I love you."

"It'll all be yours soon," she assured him, petting at his chest a bit. "The world is turning faster now, and it's turning for you."

"For us," Voldemort said very firmly, nodding as he kissed Bellatrix's forehead. "Thank you for this. It did feel right, didn't it? Shall I help you out of the corset and into something comfortable?"

Bellatrix smirked and nodded. "Normal clothes would be wonderful. Thank you, Master."

 _THE END_

 **Author's Note: I'm going to go ahead and finish this series here, based on readership and also what my brain is telling me to do. If you haven't read _Dessicated and Drowning,_ please do, because what I'm going to do next is finish that story and then write a sequel to this story _._ I hope that you've enjoyed reading _Robbers' Retreat, One is One and All Alone,_ and _The Night Has Gone and Taken._ I will eventually add a Part IV to this series exploring what it means to need a Horcrux, but I'd like to take a little mental break from this storyverse for now.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


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